Demon Love
by Cormaros
Summary: Blaise Zabini has spent a One-Night-Stand with Draco Malfoy. But now he has to feel that he's in love. Inspired by Demon Love by ASP: "I fall down on my knees and cry, I should have known it from the start".
1. 1st Verse

Demon Love

This ff has been inspired by three different aspects. a) The homonymous song by the wonderful German gothic band "ASP" (.com) which, step by step, will be written down here. b) By my very special feelings and experiences regarding Demon Love. c) By my friend Pia, who is crazy for the following pairing. Thus, this story can be considered as an early Christmas present for her.

WARNING: You will not read any detailed explanation of sexual actions. I'm simply not able to write them and thus prefer to concentrate on feelings and hints.

As usual, nothing I use here is mine. Title and potential quotes are ASP's property; the characters belong to Mrs. J.K. Rowling.

Blaise's POV

He lay coiled up on his bed, the sheet pulled over his head. He didn't want to hear or see anything. He just let himself drown in the pain that still flashed through his veins, his bones, his nerves. And his backside. Last night, it hadn't hurt that much because he had been filled up with excitement and lust. But now, all alone, he felt the unnatural sting that had felt so good last night. Still, he thought bitterly, he deserved it. So long, he had been able to deny the attraction some of his fellow pupils had on him – Cedric Diggory, "Potty", Steven Cornfoot – and HE. Well, Draco Malfoy had been the only one he had had a real crush on, not so easy to deny. And then, last night, at dinner…

- FLASHBACK –

"Come on, Zabini, sit down here! I have to ask you something about that potions-stuff!"  
Draco Malfoy's command echoed through the Great Hall, so he couldn't simply act as if he hadn't heard it – everybody had. Blaise shrugged. He didn't even know anything about a potions homework, but maybe they could work something out. He shouldn't get any more problems with professor Snape – he had spent too much time in the last lessons writing poems and songs. And his illusion charm, turning his ideas to exact notes on the lesson to all eyes but his own, hadn't worked that well sometimes. Snape's voice rang again in his head, full of irony and sarcasm: "Mr, Zabini, would you be so kind as to explain me the meaning of 'I will protect you from eternity, if you give me the bezoar from the stomach of a goat'? I really like the first part, though… Nevertheless, one hour of detention in which you will write both parts of that: the notes and the other text. Class dismissed!"  
"Zabini! What is it? You coming or not?" Malfoy's voice sounded really annoyed. As usual. Still, Blaise hurried to sit by his side and prepared himself mentally for any discussion about potions. Lucky enough he had listened today and prepared a pretty nice fertility potion – the rabbits he had tried it on hadn't stopped having sex for the rest of the class. Dang it, the memory reddened his ears and cheeks and now, as he walked towards Malfoy, his whole face seemed to be flushed bright red. Whatever. This was just about homework, right?  
And then, he was overwhelmed again by the beauty of Malfoy's face. Those long, pale lashes, mystical grey eyes and the perfectly regular face… Not even the little scar across his right cheek, result from a fall from his broom, disturbed that imagine. Again, his self-confidence was crushed – his own appearance, not even that bad, just couldn't concur with that amazing beauty. Focus, stupid!, he called himself to order. He. Was. Not. Gay. This was just the female part of Malfoy's features. End of discussion. Luckily, master Malfoy decided to claim his attention and questioned him about the analysis of the several ingredients of the potion due next Wednesday (it was Friday, untypically early for Malfoy to worry about his homeworks). During dinner, they found a mostly satisfying analysis for everything, ignoring everyone around them. Everybody around would have thought they were flirting as, while discussing quietly, they were so close that they almost touched. Sometimes, when one of them wanted to have the other's attention, he did touch a hand, an arm, just for the matter of a moment – still, it sent butterflies through Blake's stomach. Nonono.. bad idea! Just the butterbeer. right, just the butterbeer. Shut up, stupid, you know that it's something more! – Leave me alone! Oh gosh, voices talking in my head. That's bad.  
The two boys were still talking when everybody left the Great Hall to the dormitories. The dishes disappeared and the strong lights vanished – still, they continued to sit. Only some candles lit their excited faces, as they discussed. Long ago, they had left the topic of potions and moved over to other topics such as the best shops at Hogsmeade. Both of them felt the strange need to approach to each other and, suddenly, Blaise felt Malfoy's soft, cool lips on his. His inner voice of reason cried, yelled at him, what the bloody hell he was doing there. Still, the sense of happiness exploding in his whole body simply overwhelmed him, not leaving any possibility but reacting, kissing back. It was nothing but a soft kiss, but it promised much. Very much.  
Draco retreated way too early, rose from his chair and took Blaise's hand. "Not one word", he mouthed, and pulled the slightly confused boy with him into the dormitory.

-END OF FLASHBACK-

Oh hell yeah. This kiss had indeed been promising. Blaise softly touched his lips on which he still felt this wonderful softness, the kind urge of Draco's lips. The first time he had mentioned this name, he had felt almost rude. Draco Malfoy was one of the few of Slytherin who insisted on being called by their last name and everybody obeyed without contradiction. To be honest, this first "Draco" had escaped his lips when they had to pause in front of the Common Room door. As the blonde had had to focus on opening the door, Blaise had finally found the possibility to concentrate on making up some reasonably thoughts, to being able to discuss. After one word, he had been silenced again by two cool fingertips resting softly on his lips, and the surprisingly soft voice of Draco, saying: "Blaise, listen. You want me – I want you. We both know you're gay. This will be a thing of one night only and afterwards, you will not have to speak to me again. I promise", and here, Draco had smiled a soft, crooked smile, "I promise to do you no more harm than necessary. Now, please enter."  
So easily he had been donated by the simple privilege of the first name. He smirked. "Malfoy" had always had an element of respect, almost fear in it. How sweet could sound the word "Draco", how easy it was to add a pleading note to its pronunciation… And how much easier it was to sigh, moan and scream "Dray" in the varying states of arousal he had passed the last night. Indeed, he had surfed on high waves of lust, still aware of the fact that this night would be unique. There would not be a second One-Night-Stand between the two of them, a circumstance that had even increased the incredible tension inside the two of them.  
Blaise had given himself up completely, letting Malfoy – Dray – take the lead of whatever happened. He had opened himself in every physical way possible, something that might have seemed dishonoring in any other circumstance – in any other's arms. Draco had been incredibly soft and tender, always caressing, always finding the time to kiss Blaise's open, longing lips, to play with a streak of his long, bluish-black hair or to stroke his flushed cheeks.  
Blake, unfortunately, now found out that this was not the one-night-stand he had expected it to be. Dray not only had showed and given to him what his body unconsciously had been longing for so long, no. He also had woken something in his heart and soul that was not so easy to replace or deny.  
Blaise pushed away the white sheets from over his face and looked around, trying to focus on something easier to understand than his own feelings. One stream of sunlight shone through a pair of half-closed draperies, lighting a – despite himself – empty room. So much the better, at least he didn't have to face any curious glances from any of these jerks of the Slytherin house. He dressed slowly and absentmindedly, his brain still occupied with the events of the last night. His slender body wore some bruises caused by Draco's fingernails he could easily hide under a long-armed black shirt. As he once had been told that he looked good in black, he added a pair of black leather pants and the unavoidable black cloak. _Great_, he thought, as he covered a dark violet love bite on his neck with a green scarf,_ let's hope it doesn't get too hot today, or you'll look really stupid, man._  
Quickly, he ran his fingers through his long, tangled hair, remembering the soft smile on Dray's face whenever he had played with it. His heart beat accelerated slightly and Blaise made a face. I am pretty wrecked, I am. The dark circles under his eyes emphasized this feeling the same way the soreness in his whole body did. At least, the pain had fainted. He shrugged. _Gotta live with the consequences of what you do. That's the way it is. _  
Slowly, he walked to the Great Hall, searching for the chance to get some breakfast. As a matter of fact, it was almost time for lunch, so he decided to join this dish instead of taking breakfast for himself. The house-elves could get pretty mean when they had to prepare something out of schedule, deliberately taking salt instead of sugar and such games. So Blaise accommodated himself on one of the seats and wished for a sheet of papyrus and a quill which momentarily appeared. The quill resting in his left hand, he watched around and saw Draco Malfoy at almost the other end of the Slytherin table – in the centre of a crowd. As usual, at least five girls were around him, not counting Crabbe and Goyle, the always-present gorillas. All of them watched Malfoy with admiring eyes, obviously listening to him. With a hint of exasperation he recognized that even he did while Malfoy, of course, ignored him as he had most of the time in the last years. Oh yes, Blaise knew the way Draco could talk if he wanted. Anybody around him with the least bit of sympathy for the handsome blonde would then feel the need to listen, understand and agree with him. It was a gift the young Slytherin had, and not yet had he completely discovered the power behind it. Blaise knew that for Draco, his listeners didn't mean anything, but as he watched the girls admiring him, one of them (definitely Pansy Parkinson, that ugly…) even touching his arm and leaning on his shoulders, he felt a strong jolt of jealousy. His dark grey eyes narrowed and his full lips – Italian heredity – tightened. He had read about that sensation and had even felt it once in a while when he had seen some of his ex-girlfriends with his successor, but this was different. The other times, the jealousy had been combined with a sense of possession, the wish to cry out "Hands off, she's mine!"  
This time, it was different. He didn't feel proud or strong enough to at least raise a word, no. It was merely a sting directly into the centre of his heart, a sting which left him bleeding. With surprising certainty, he suddenly became aware of how few he obviously mattered to the blonde, which caused another wave of pain to run through his body. The lips firmly pressed together in order not to start sobbing, he gripped the quill and started writing stinging words, words that tried to express his feelings and almost did.

_Well I thought it would be  
A one-night-stand I could have lived with that  
But now it seems to me  
I'm just a fly that is caught in your net  
The things you gave me were  
The things I needed most but dreaded more  
I wonder why you dared  
To show me what I'm longing longing for_

Enjoy yourselves and, if you did, feel free to press the button "review". If you have any topic- or grammar suggestions, I would love to read them.


	2. Thoughts about the past

Demon Love 2

The suffering continues.

The white sheet of paper was now filled with dark red letters, letters that showed a magic they never had shown before. Sure, he had written some songs for his band, but they had been more of the political or humorous kind. This one, he felt, was different as it was inspired by his real emotions, not the usual Daily-Prophet-article or an unimportant event at school. He grinned. Yes, the nicest song he had written had been based on Ronald Wiesel Weasley falling down the stairs of the Astronomy Tower. During the process, he had consumed a lot of butterbeer and spent the nights half composing, half making out with his girlfriend of that time. Who was it again? He didn't remember. It was the time in which he had been much of a rebel, smoking, drinking, and continually fighting midnight duels. And he obviously had had a lot of girls, if he couldn't even remember their names… Nevermind, he had promised Dumbledore to stop this behavior in order to get the allowance to return to school and never, ever, had he gone back on his word. Still, he wished for a cigarette now, or something stronger. Something to make him forget the problems and worries he had and to help him pass this stupid Saturday in a world, where flying elephants and yellow monsters with purple freckles existed (AN: INSIDER  ). But – no! He couldn't. He would have to try to get everything together that Malfoy – Dray, he sighed internally – had come up with last night, before their conversation had lost its course.

Slowly, he got up from his chair, took the sheet of paper and the quill, and made his way through the almost empty castle. _Where for Merlin's sake is everyone???_, he wondered, when suddenly, a sunbeam startled him. _Oh, right. People are enjoying the wonderful sun, making out around the lake and letting the light turn their hormones upside down_, he thought ironically. _Have fun, guys_. His irony, he recognized quickly, was from a new sense of bitterness inside his heart, a bitterness that cried out: "You will not be able to make around in the sunlight with the one you might have fallen in love with! HAHA!" _Right baby, give it to me. I never liked those pessimistic inner voices and now I remember the reason…_

Sure, he had the choice of varying girls of all houses who would fall immediately for a look from his dark grey eyes and a dashing smile. But he didn't want to have sex. He wanted to lie in the green grass, to put his head on somebody's chest, and have that somebody caressing his head and playing with his hair. He wanted to feel butterfly-like soft kisses, which suddenly turned into a brutal tongue fight. He wanted… _Stop it. You're just messing up with yourself. See, you're already having monologues. This can't be sanity. So stop it. _

Blaise clenched his hands into fists and tried to think nothing, but he didn't succeed completely. he now didn't feel Draco's touch on his skin – he only saw his beautiful face in front of his inner eye – cheeks flushed, eyes shining and the alabaster pale nostrils flared in excitement. His situation had not improved that much, to be honest. The grip around his heart grew tighter and tighter with every step that led him closer to the boys' dormitory in which he had spent the last night. He hardly made it to his bed before the dizziness took control and he collapsed on the white sheets. Tearless sobs rocked his body and he could barely restrain the cry of agony searching its way through his throat.

No, this couldn't be love. Love couldn't be that painful!

Once upon a time, he had built walls inside his heart to protect himself against this pain. Once upon a time, when he had had a best friend, a girl, who had fallen in love deeply and who had lost the one she'd loved in a car accident. Never, ever, had he wanted to see anybody so deeply in pain. Well, now he might simply have to look into the mirror although the one he loved – _well, let's pretend it were love; my mind is fine with that _– was not dead in the physical way. But still, the time he could be with this loved one in the way lovers were, was irrevocably over. It had lasted not more than six, maybe seven hours of joy and lust. There was more in Draco, and perhaps there was also more in him. Opportunities for the soft and tender part of a relationship – but they wouldn't find it out together. He hadn't even noticed when Draco had left his bed and went into his own one – no goodbye-kiss, no last words – nothing.

During these considerations, the sobs had vanished, but they returned in the very moment Blaise consciously thought the word "nothing". _These walls are broken, my dear. They've been destroyed with a bulldozer. Or a really strong spell. _

Blaise didn't do his potions homework. He didn't even get up from his bed during the whole day, spending it in a state between sleep and vigil, trying to evade all emotions. Unfortunately, whenever he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep, Draco's smell tickled inside his nose and his skin felt the illusion of a warm body next to it. When the other boys finally came up, discussing about Quidditch and all the other simple joys of life, Blaise was still wide awake. Still, he acted as if he was sleeping, and the others left him alone, each of them beginning to snore quietly almost as soon as their heads touched the pillows. Blaise found no sleep. He turned around and looked at each of the dark silhouettes. Crabbe and Goyle, huge also in their sleep, snoring loudly. Bill and Dan (AN: sorry, I don't have the books with me, so I have to come up with some names) cuddled up in their beds, one of them whispering in his sleep. And then, he watched the moonlit silhouette of Draco Malfoy: slim, almost fragile under the thick green woolen blanket.

His eyes fixed on this figure, he finally found an uncomfortable and uneasy sleep.

Okay, that's it for today. I'm in desperate need of my bed. But (and this is something new) I already have a certain idea how to continue :-)

As usual – please read and review!


	3. Encounter

Part three.

The characters are property of J.K. Rowling and the verse is part of "Demon Love" by ASP.  
Inspiration: "An meiner Seite" and "Feuerengel" by Unheilig.

He hadn't slept well that night, weird and incoherent pictures swirling around in his head. Draco Malfoy's nude body, his lips, slightly opened – but as well red scars on white skin, eyes filled with tears, a burned forest, then again Malfoy… The last thing he'd seen before he woke up had been a sunken ship, lifeless and sinister.  
When he woke up with a terrible headache, he thought that this might be himself, drowned in a sea of pain. He sighed and stretched his body, still lost in this last imagine, strangely burned into his inner eye. He didn't want to get up today, nor did he want to see anybody. But unfortunately, this wish didn't find any fulfillment.  
"Good morning. You slept oddly late today." _Nonono, not him. Everybody, but not him._ "Good morning, Dray. What time is it?" "It's about 10 already. I suspect you spent a nice night outside while we all were sleeping?" _Sure. A great night!_, he thought ironically, but forced himself to give a correct answer. "No, Dray, I didn't. I spent the whole night here, in the dormitory. And no again, it was not a nice night. I thought you knew me well enough to distinguish between the hangover after a party and a simple headache." So much he wished to be angry with Draco Malfoy for ruining his weekend, although Friday night had been heaven on earth. He wished to blame the other boy for the misery he found himself in, but he couldn't. He supported himself on his elbow, watching Draco Malfoy's silhouette against the dull grey light of a clouded sky. And again, he was stunned by the other's beauty. A romantic painter couldn't have found a better way to paint an angel – shining without artificial light, standing out in front of his surroundings. Blaise felt how soft feelings washed through his body, warmth that no girl ever before had caused. "Dray", he whispered inaudibly, wishing to reach out and touch the other's face, to caress those soft lips as a gesture of affection – or goodbye?  
"So why don't you go into the hospital wing and ask Madame Pomfrey for something against your headache? She'll know what to do", Malfoy's calm words brought him back down to earth. "No, it's not that kind of headache. Been simply thinking too much, you know? Maybe I should go outside, spend some time in the grounds." _And maybe I should tell you everything so these feelings don't remain this unsupportable burden on my shoulders… _To show Malfoy – and himself – that he was being serious, he stretched again and gracefully jumped out of his bed. At least his physical strength had not left him yet. He felt Malfoy's admiring glance on his back, but when he turned around, the other's grey eyes were as unimpressed as usual. In the bathroom, he tried to find words, words to explain his feelings, but his head was empty. Again and again, the huge mirror had to listen to the words "Listen, Dray. I have to explain you something. Been thinking about you a lot, and…"  
The speech never continued. Blaise took an ice-cold shower and while the freezing water burned on his skin, his head simply spun around and around and around. _Dang it, focus!_ He had to talk to Draco Malfoy – soon. He had to explain his feelings, had to find out what the last night had meant to the other. Maybe they could take a walk together and talk in peace. Yes, that was a good idea. He had never been good at sitting in a chair to talk. He had to move, to have the chance not to look into the eyes of the one he was talking to. But how should he convince Draco Malfoy to come with him?  
"What is it, Blaise? You're avoiding me" _WTF????? _Blaise almost lost his balance and had to cling to the shower head. "Dray. Would you have the kindness to explain me what you're doing here?" Malfoy's answer was rather sarcastic: "Well, I enjoy the fact that these showers don't have curtains. I like the way your hair looks, when it is wet. It falls on your back – pretty nice, I have to admit. And I admire the feline muscles on your back. I didn't recognize how athletic you are when we spent the night together", now, his voice lost its sarcasm and even showed a hint of affection, "I suppose there are many things that I didn't know about you. I'm sorry that I left you so early that morning, but I wanted you to have the choice whether to tell the others about the fact that you're gay or not."

"Oh, great. That was awfully kind of you", Blaise felt the bitterness run through his veins. Why did his heart betray him that way? Why was there nothing that he wanted more than to step out of the shower and, dripping wet as he was, to embrace this boy? "But you're wrong. I'm not avoiding YOU. I'm avoiding the other Draco Malfoy in the centre of a crowd, flanked by his gorillas and a bunch of girls,, whom everybody is crazy about. I'm avoiding the man in you who knows about his power and the various possibilities he has to manipulate everybody around him. If I found the unmasked Draco Malfoy of this one night, the boy who combines lust and love, the one who is fragile and strong in the same moment – I wouldn't hesitate to touch him, to spend all my time with him. But I can't see him. I sense him now, but the very moment I turn around, you'll be the other one again. You'll lean against the wall, arms crossed, with this almost expressionless mask on your face. And I couldn't stand it. I couldn't…" In the moment in which he collapsed sobbing he recognized that he hadn't eaten anything in the last 36 hours.  
Some hours later, he woke up – covered up nicely in his bed. Someone had closed the curtains of the windows, so there was no light beside a candle which burned on his bed table. Only subconsciously he reached out just to find a cool hand on his blankets. These fingers softly caressed his shaking ones until they were calm. In the darkness, Draco Malfoy's voice sounded even softer than ever when he started talking: "Blaise. Calm yourself, I'm here. I'm with you. And I'm not going to leave you ever so soon. I'm sorry for what I've obviously done to you. Please, calm yourself", only then, Blaise discovered that he was sobbing tearlessly. He forced himself to breathe evenly. Everything was fine for now. "Dray… Dray, please, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault that I …" A soft kiss interrupted him. _It's not your fault that I fell in love with you_ would have been the complete sentence, but now, every thought was eliminated by Malfoy's lips. They were so soft, so tender. Warmth flooded trough his body again, every wall crumbled effortlessly. His heartbeat accelerated and he felt weightless: In this moment, he would have found the courage to say everything. But at the same time, he didn't want to talk. He didn't want to break the kiss. He didn't want the butterflies in his stomach to fly away and leave him heavier than ever.

When Draco Malfoy left him, he didn't speak a word. He caressed Blaise's cheek one last time and disappeared into the darkness. Still dazzled, Blaise picked a quill and a sheet of paper and started writing the second verse:

_Now you've torn down my walls  
The walls built to protect me against this  
You pushed me now I fall  
The strongest man can be slain by a kiss  
You trespassed on my frontiers  
I felt this time I would not be deceived  
You took away my fears  
I opened up once more to see you leave_


	4. Dinner

The ice prince had left him again. He was glad not to be aware of the pain, but it was sure to return as time went by. Trying to distract himself, he went into the empty Common Room and began doing his homework. Arithmancy and DADA were easy as he usually listened to his teachers and understood the subject quite well. It took him an entire box of Bertie Botts Beans in order to do his essay for Divination and still, it sucked. He didn't like this class at all but he was one of the few talented students and, like this, easily gained positive marks.

This time, the essay was about the various ways to interpret a picture shown in the stars – easy. But there were so many ways and only few of them came to his mind. But he decided that today was this "once in a while" in which he could rely on his teacher's sympathy and not hand in a perfect homework. His marks weren't perfect, but they were definitely good enough for that. Slowly, Blaise wrote the date on every sheet, folded them neatly and put them into his backpack. _And now? Sunday sucks…_, he thought, then he leaned back in his armchair. After maximal 10 minutes, he jumped back on his feet. No, he couldn't stay seated. He had to get outside and spend some time in the fresh air. A look outside the window confirmed his presentiment – still, dull grey clouds covered the sky and hid the sun behind them. So much the better. Quickly, he ran back up the stairs into the dormitory, opened the curtains and changed into a pair of old sweatpants and a black XXL-shirt. After he had tied his hair into an untidy ponytail and put on a pair of waterproof boots, he went outside into the autumnally brown Hogwarts grounds. In the unpopulated grounds, he did a bit of jogging, stretching and kickboxing – he needed to clear his mind and to get rid of a lot of negative energy.

In total, his sports program took him more than two hours and the light of day had almost completely disappeared so that he had to hurry to get back into the castle before dark. As his body calmed, he became aware of this day's wintry cold, the first time that year. Shaking, he arrived in the dormitory, where his numb fingers had to struggle to open the outright mess his hair had become – as usual. _Next time, I should definitely bring a pair of gloves_, he thought, when finally the hot water of the shower warmed his skin and the after-work out-tiredness took reign of his body. He was satisfied with his physical activity – and with the fact that he had not thought about Draco Malfoy at all during the last three hours.

While he distributed the shower gel on his skin, he closed his eyes and called back the memory of the last shower he had taken, earlier that day. Almost, immediately, his body reacted. _Oh great, the last thing I need is to be caught with a boner… Stupid idea of 'no secrets between the students of the great house of Slytherin'. Whatever you think, Salazar, being watched while I'm taking a shower will SO NOT tighten the relationship between Crabbe, Goyle and me!!!_ To his great relief, nobody caught him in this state of mind and he hurried to get his thoughts back in order.

Afterwards, he dressed in a simple black turtleneck and pair of black leather pants under the inevitable school uniform. As he felt rather rebellious, he put on his favorite pair of combat boots and left his hair open and wet. Last but not least, he stuffed a sheet of paper and a Muggle-pen into the pocket of his pants. With his usual perfect timing, he went into the Great Hall, where the other students, one by one, arrived for dinner. He took a seat on one of the chairs at the long Slytherin table farthest from the entrance and scrutinized all the happy faces entering the room. Suddenly, one huge group of all houses mixed together entered the hall, attraction everybody's attention. Blaise rose to his feet to have a better overview – no chance. When finally Theodor Nott took seat next to him, the poor boy saw himself questioned immediately: "What happened? What's going on there?"

Theo threw him an evil glance, stretched, and explained lazily: "There's been an argument between Malfoy and Potter 'cause they had Quidditch training at the same time again. And now, the reports differ. Some of the guys say, Malfoy punched Potter right into the face. Others say, he got a nice acne-curse and Madame Pomfrey had to give him the weirdest stuff to get him back in shape. Why don't you just ask yourself, eh?" Blaise shrugged. There was nothing else he could do, so he waited anxiously for Draco Malfoy to arrive in the Great Hall. When he finally sat down, facing Theo, it was easy to tell from his huge grin, he hadn't suffered from any curse or treatment. Everybody seemed excited to hear the story – everybody except Blaise. In the very moment in which master Malfoy Had entered the Hall, he had lost every rational thought. His lips prickled from the kiss this day as if it had been only seconds ago. He struggled hard not to touch his mouth or to stare too intensively at the ice prince. The butterflies – or were they stinging wasps? – started flattering again in his stomach and his knees changed their consistency from solid to pulp.

"Yep, you heard correctly. Madam Pomfrey has to cure a nicely broken nose now… I could convince everyone that it was an accident, that a bludger kicked him from his broomstick – which is, as you might suggest – NOT the truth!" The Slytherin table roared from laughter – it was everybody's duty to do so. Nobody would even dare not to laugh about a Malfoy's joke – it would be quite unhealthy. As Blaise, lost in his own thought, didn't laugh, he earned a half angry, half surprised look by Malfoy and his two guardians who – what a fortune – were distracted as in this very moment, the tables were loaded with food. Everybody started eating – except Blaise.

"Oh come on, Zabini! What is it? Are you on diet or something? Have a bite of this pumpkin cake, it's great!" Theodore took his table and stuffed two spoons of orange-colored mass on it and also a piece of meat. Without tasting anything, Blaise ate and drank a cup of pumpkin cake. For anybody else, this would have been way too much pumpkin, but he didn't even care. Next to the butterflies, there simply was no space in his stomach. And he didn't want anything to scrub away the wonderful feeling on his lips still left by Draco's. Silently, he kept on watching the ice prince from under his lashes and enjoyed the possibility to scrutinize every little detail of the other's face and hands. Draco had incredibly long and slim fingers, their color almost as pale as the tablecloth. His teeth were perfectly white and symmetric, only one eyetooth stepped a tiny little bit out of order.

Blaise was lost in the ever-changing colors of Draco's eyes, when his personal hell appeared – Pansy Parkinson. Ever since, she'd had a strong crush on Malfoy and as he didn't really protest against her affection, she had claimed him for herself. The calmness with which Draco accepted that she placed her backside on his lap showed Blaise once again that his love, even the last kiss today, didn't matter anything to the ice prince. Suddenly, he felt the strong need to either puke or bend because of the cold pain running through his veins. But he didn't. He just pulled the paper and the – rather demolished – pen out of his pocket and started scribbling the next verse:

_Your poison kiss spread through my body  
Finally it reached my heart  
I fall down on my knees and cry  
I should have known it from the start_

For Pia who had to wait really long for this chapter.

As usual, nothing here is mine.

Please r&r


	5. Humiliations

"Zabini, what are you writing? Any homework forgotten that was due tomorrow?" Curiously, Theodore Nott leaned over to take a glimpse at the faint blue words on the crumpled sheet of paper in Blaise's hands. The long-haired boy didn't have the nerve to explain these lines and gruffly answered: "Theo, this is so not your business, so buzz off!" Of course, this was the perfect way to raise everybody's attention – including Draco Malfoy. "Give it to me!" he commanded in the tone of somebody who is used to be obeyed to. _Oh, you don't really want this, my beautiful prince. You don't want anyone to know what you did Friday night. You don't want to tell them that you're gay, eh?_ "No. This is not your business, either. It's only mine and I would like you to accept my privacy", he replied calmly. Nobody noticed his trembling fingers hidden under the long sleeves of his cloak. Without a word, Malfoy rose from his chair, went around the table and placed his hands firmly on Blaise's shoulders, his mouth very, very close to Blaise's ear. "Zabini", he whispered with the softest voice of all, "I asked you to hand me that sheet of paper. I expected you to smart enough not to make me FORCE you."

_Close. Too close. I can't stand it. Please, don't touch me. It burns my skin. Please, please... _"Don't touch me!" Blaise yelled. He jumped to his feet and shook off Malfoy's hands. He felt the heat run through his veins and flush his cheeks. Now, his hands were visibly trembling, but he simply didn't care. He wouldn't have supported Draco's touch even a second longer – too many emotions running high. Slowly, his breathing evened and under flattering eyelids, he was able to actually look into the ice prince's face. Surprised, he detected an ever so slight touch of pink on the usually marble white cheeks and an expression of both confusion and anger in his traits. Through clenched teeth, Draco hissed hardly audibly: "Do you recognize something? Everybody is watching us. You just humiliated both you – which would be forgivable – and me. Nobody humiliates a Malfoy. Got that? I'm almost a bit sorry for doing this. Once, you even were a friend to me. But I have my pride to keep, you know…"

He raised his voice and then purred: "Oh come on, Zabini. You sounded a bit different Friday night. Wasn't 'Oh Dray, please, pull me closer! Give it to me!' the exact way you pronounced it? You showed me quite clearly that I can make men desire me the same way women do. It was a test and I'm glad to declare that I passed", he grinned seductively, driving an unnoticed hot flush of desire through Blaise's loins. Imperceptibly, he looked around. Of course, everybody watched him with half curious, half repelling eyes. He knew, he should feel ashamed now, his gayness exposed to anyone close enough to hear Malfoy's words. But he didn't. Numbness froze his body where it was, not even did he notice that Draco's ling fingers opened his hand and took the sheet of paper. He saw the blonde boy carefully read his painful lines and then raise one of his fine eyebrows – but he did not really observe it. Only when Malfoy, with an unreadable expression on his face, held the slip into a candle's flame, he did react. "No!" he cried as if a part of his body was burning.

Suddenly, his mind was wide awake and filled with anger. This was definitely more than he could bear. "You just crossed the line, Draco Malfoy. I don't care who you are or who your father is. Your descent doesn't give you the right to ignore such universal things like privacy or the inviolability of human dignity. Give this sheet of paper back to me. Right now. I might be in love with you or not, I will not accept such treatment." With more force than he had expected, he grabbed Draco's arm and pulled it away from the flames. Bright red bruises had appeared on the marble skin and finally, the blonde boy let go of the note. It glided to the floor, where Blaise picked it up immediately and smoothed the crinkled surface. With no further word, he left the table and about twenty co-students speechless behind him. On the way to the dormitory, his anger fainted slowly and when he finally arrived there, he felt weaker than ever. Without even taking off his boots, he flung himself onto his bed and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-- DRACO'S POV ---

As he entered the dormitory, Draco Malfoy found himself rather astonished by the perspective Blaise Zabini pleasured him with. The tight leather pants highlighted his well-formed ass and his hair was spread out on the cushion. Draco felt – again – a strong desire running through his veins – _Dang it. A Malfoy doesn't desire a boy._ But he couldn't deny the fact that he did, no matter how often he repeated this mantra. To forget the pleasures he had experienced with Zabini, he had seduced Pansy Parkinson the night afterwards. It had not been that hard, if he was being honest with himself. And it had been quite interesting to literally make her scream. Only now, as she clung even closer to him than before, he almost regretted this night. But most of all, it had been necessary. He had to make sure that there was nothing wrong with his brain. A Malfoy couldn't be _gay_. Absolutely not. It was his duty to get married, produce some annoying children, get a well-paid job in the government and – of course – to serve the Dark Lord. There had never been much of a choice, to be honest.

And it was this absence of choice that drove him crazy. There were moments in which he wished not to be part of the most influential family in the magic world. And it was the presence of Blaise Zabini that made him feel as if he could break the barriers of his derivation. He didn't know – yet – what he felt about this boy. He just knew one thing. He was happy when the other one was close – and he felt more and more miserable when he was not. And this was exactly the way he couldn't permit himself to feel. As a future Death Eater, he could not set his heart on anybody besides the Dark Lord and maybe, even if only a bit, his future wife. Still, he could not fight a warm smile of sympathy when he watched the completely exhausted, softly snoring Blaise. It was the kind of smile that would have ruined his reputation and thus was never exposed to any eyes but those of his family – theoretically. When was the last time that he'd smiled at his father? He did not remember, no matter how he tried. His fragile mother might have received a smile during the summer holidays, but he wasn't sure. It had become difficult to live with them and not to let the dark, cold rooms of Malfoy Manor deteriorate his mood. It was bad enough to return there every summer and to be away of Hogwarts, where he had least could live as if he was a – okay, not completely – normal boy and not the heir to plenty of power and money. _You should not think like this about what you are_, he reprimanded himself. He was just about to break the 10th commandment each Malfoy learned (they were not that strict about the "Thou shall not kill"-thing).

Without even thinking about it, he once stroke Blaise's bluish-black hair whispered: "Sleep well, may you dream happy dreams. I hope you ." _WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING; DRACO EMANUEL LUCIUS MALFOY?!?! GET INTO YOUR BED AND SLEEP!"_ he called himself to order. If it hadn't seemed ridiculous, he would have slapped himself. But even the imagination that anyone could have heard his inner dialogue was not able to erase the smile from the usually severe and repellent face.

You surely can imagine what I wanted to express with this chapter. I don't like the stereotyped thinking of the "Evil" and the "Good" ones. BTW, I sort of like Draco Malfoy ;-)

I hope you had fun reading this chapter (in case anyone read it at all *cry*)


	6. Glances

Here we go again.

A huge hug of thanks to **Whylite** for your reviews. I'm so glad anybody besides the one receiving it as a X-mas-gift reads this fic. You're right. Ron Weasel Wealey is spelled like this. I simply adopted the German spelling **-.-**  
Another biiiig hug goes to **Laurahubbit**. Thanks for reading, my dearest 333. I'm glad you liked it and I hope you'll follow this thing until the end.

- Blaise's POV –

He had spent a night of deep, dreamless sleep – exactly what he had needed. When Theodore Nott's annoying alarm clock woke them all up with its stupid "We are the champions", he felt as if he could face everything now. Maybe he could speak to Draco Malfoy again, talk this whole mess over in peace and erase his overreaction of the night before. On his way to the Great Hall, he felt serene and optimistic, despite the ravenous hunger he sensed. ´This serenity was only slightly damaged when he became aware of the strange glances some kids of the Second Year threw at him. _So what_, he thought, _do I have a pink Puffskein on my head?_ Amused by his own joke, he grinned widely at them, gaining only more shocked glanced as a response. _Kids_, he thought, shaking his head and went on as calmly as before. It gave him some more difficulties to ignore the similar glances from hundreds of eyes following him, when he went to the Slytherin table. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, also Slytherins watched him and started whispering with their neighbours whenever they guessed him too far away to hear them.

A bit startled, he sat down and started eating, his eyes fixed on his plate. Still, he sensed the gazes and heard the constant buzz all around him. "Oh come on, what is it?" he asked his neighbour without even looking at who it was. Baaaad mistake. "Don't tell me you don't remember!" Pansy Parkinson's hiss sent shivers down his spine. She had never been amazingly kind and soft, but this unfriendliness was absolutely exaggerated. He craved deeply in his mind, but couldn't find any way his behavior towards her had been less than polite. Yes, he had humiliated someone last night – himself! "I apologize, Miss Parkinson, but I have no idea how I might have insulted you. So would you be as kind as to explain me what you mean?" _Okay, now it's you to exaggerate. Don't show off with the perfect courtesy you've been raised to. _Additionally, it didn't help. Usually, this way of speaking softened the features of the one he was talking to – but Parkinson seemed literally pissed off. "You. Told. My. Draco. In. Front. Of. The. Whole. School. That. You. Loved. Him. Are you fucking crazy? He belongs with me and doesn't care what a fruitcake like you feels about him. He's not gay anyways so keep your fingers away from him! And squash those rumours about the two of you once and for all!"

She didn't yell nor did she cry, but Blaise felt the mental confusion she was in, this mix of anger, amazement and jealousy. Suddenly, he pitied her. Obviously, she loved Draco with all her heart, exactly the way he did – maybe a bit more possessively. He fought hard to look into her eyes and saw them reddened because of a sleepless night. Had she cried? _You suck at being a Slytherin. You're way too soft-hearted. Why don't you move to Hufflepuff?_ He reprimanded himself. Calmly, he said: "I know that he doesn't care about my feelings. He made this quite clear. And I wouldn't want to take him away from you. But I can't eat my words, nor would I want to. Stop crying. I promise, I will not get between the two of you anymore." _No, I won't. I've obviously never been. Once upon a time I prided myself to know that Draco is not that into you – but I guess I don't know him at all. I'll do it the emo style and suffer all alone. Great. _

Although his own heart felt as if it would break at only the thought of keeping his hands off Draco Malfoy, he knew it was the right thing to do. Maybe, once upon a time, it would stop hurting and then, he could focus on something close to a normal life. If not, well, at least he could offer Draco Malfoy the possibility to reach the aims he'd been talking about since their arrival at Hogwarts. An ironic smile spread over his face – he had been the last one to be chosen to be a Slytherin – and the only seat still not occupied had been the one next to the ice prince. Nobody had dared to sit that close to the youngest offspring of the famous Malfoy family. He had had no other choice – and still, his legs had shaken the whole evening, until the very moment in which he had been allowed to leave the table.

His thoughts were violently interrupted by Pansy Parkinson who obviously had changed her mind, hugged him tightly and "whispered": "Oh, I knew you weren't that bad! So, as homosexuals are said to be quite fashionable, what would you say about shopping one day?"_WTF??? Why can't women cling to their opinion just once? _"Pansy, I'm really sorry to destroy your illusions, but my sense of fashion has not changed in the last days. And I don't think that you'd be so much into wearing exclusively black – and I won't suggest you anything blue, although I know that it's your favourite colour. You see, we don't match at all."

- PANSY'S POV –

Scrutinizing the collar of his black turtleneck and the combat boots – he felt rebellious most of these days – she had no other choice but to agree. Her favourite colour indeed was dark blue. That was one of the reasons she had had a crush on Zabini in their first year: his eyes had exactly the colour she loved most of all. Still, his behaviour had helped her to quickly change her mind: He had always been too difficult to read, almost grim – and quiet. She preferred men she could admire and look up at – like Draco Malfoy. Of course, his name and his outward appearance had even improved the image she had of him, but the best part about the ice prince was his charisma. Whenever she saw him easily manipulating everyone around him without even notice this talent, her heart beat faster and she wished to be the only one he would show his true feelings to. Tears filled her eyes when she remembered that she still wasn't that she still was part of the mass to him. Nothing special.

She would never ever tell him, but Zabini was different. He really did mean something to the usually so cold ice prince. Once, he had only been a friend to him, a person he trusted, which already was something special. You could literally count his confidants on one hand, to be honest. But now, things had changed. There was something about the two of them she could neither explain nor classify. Something that hurt everyone: Draco, Zabini – and her. A jealousy she didn't want to feel began to gnaw her inwards whenever she looked at Blaise Zabini. Things had been way easier before Friday night, but she knew that, whatever had happened could not be undone. Without really wanting to as he had always been polite with her, she began to hate Blaise Zabini because of his strong impact on her boyfriend.

- BLAISE'S POV –

He didn't know what was going on in Pansy's mind; he just saw her sad face and the conflict of emotions in her eyes. Before he could say something to ease her situation, someone took his arm and pulled him towards Divination ere he could be late. This first lesson of the week usually was filled with laughter and chatter as Trelawney wasn't that much into discipline and quiet. She was fine when two students listened to her while she babbled about the future, foggy glass bowls and tea leftovers. Usually, he sat together with Draco Malfoy or Theodore Nott, but the first was to be avoided simply because Blaise didn't want to face him now and the second was way to curious. Thus, he chose the only empty table– the one directly in front of the teacher's desk. This meant a) no one to talk to and b) the necessity to focus in order to look good in "Professor" Trelawney's baby eyes. Doing this, he had no other choice but to stare at the astrological map she had handed out and try to find out what destiny the stars predicted for the one born under exactly this combination. _Let me guess. It might be death, magic and suffering... As usual._

He was too good at this. The constellations offered their meaning way too easily and after he had looked them up in his _Unfogging the Future Part VII_, and taken some notes, he didn't have anything to do. His mind was free to occupy itself with things indefinitely more important than finding out a stranger's destiny – his own life. Which was in a bit of a mess, to be honest. Absentmindedly, he scratched his neck and then blushed lightly. He knew about the love bite there, his reason to wear a turtleneck or a scarf these days. Only thinking about the moments in which he had received several bites of this kind re-released the butterflies in his stomach which started to flatter hectically again. His legs turned into jelly and his heartbeat accelerated. But the joy didn't last for long. Only a glimpse of an eye later, a fire rushed through his veins – the almost familiar pain of loneliness belonging to every thought of Draco Malfoy.

Sighing, he drew a line under his rare notes of the day and started to write with a shaking hand:

_I wrote love-letters on  
Your skin they still burn on my fingertips  
And even now you're gone  
Your taste it still remains upon my lips  
How could you be so mean  
Your touch showed me a glimpse of paradise  
You linger in my dreams  
I still can feel you when I close my eyes _


	7. Perceptions and Notes

"Mr. Zabini, your gift seems more and more elaborated each day! Wonderful how you foresaw my nice little homework for next lesson! Impressive! Please, take ten points for Slytherin!" Trelawney's soft voice and her cold hand on his shoulder ripped him out of his thoughts, out of his pain. "I'm sorry, professor, I'm afraid I didn't understand you correctly" was the only thing he could say, confused as he was. She, with a wide movement of her thin arms, exclaimed: "Mr. Zabini, don't be so modest! You anticipated that my homework would be to get into the mind of the person whose destiny you have on these celestial charts! I wish you to be able to empathize with your future clients, in case you want to become a professional at Divination. Unfortunately" and now, her whole body seemed to express pity, "I see only few of you who have the gift! You, Mr Zabini", a wide, cordial smile, "might want to consider this. Really, truly impressive. Class dismissed!"

She seemed so happy about his so-called gift that she gave them more than an hour of free time during which they played Exploding Snap or Wizard Chess. Blaise was still rather dazzled – _a professional at Divination! Hell, no! _– He lost each and every game he played. After being walked over during the second turn of Exploding Snap despite his good cards, he quit the game and left the Common Room, followed by some curious glances. He wandered through the empty corridors (sorry I didn't find a better word -.-), trying desperately not to think too much. He succeeded less than fifteen minutes – he had arrived in front of the Transfiguration room. Letting himself fall down on the ground, he opened his mind to properly think about everything that had happened – in this bed and in his heart.

Sighing, he pulled out of his backpack another sheet of paper and scribbled:  
_1)__We had sex.__ Draco fucked the hell out of me.  
2) It was the best night ever. Surely also compared to those I can't remember.  
_His attempt to analyze his situation gave him the possibility to look calmly at everything and he grinned. He had passed several nights with no further memory and, believing the stories he had been told later, he had also lost his virginity during one of these nights. At least the 'normal' virginity.  
_3) He used it as a test. He passed. I failed.  
_His heart wished so much that Draco's words were a lie, that at least also the ice prince felt something like desire towards him. Still, he couldn't help but believe what Draco had said before. He had used him to show – to whom? – that he could seduce everyone, that his reputation was nothing but the truth.  
_4) This night doesn't matter to him __anymore__. It never has!!!  
_The first teardrop wetted the sheet, obliterating "never". Blaise clenched his hands to fists, fighting for the last bit of self-control he could find. Sarcastically, he wrote down:  
_5) It obviously does matter to me.  
_An ugly blot now decorated this note as he had gripped the pen too hard – now he held two pieces in his hand. "Reparo" he sighed and, with a nonchalant movement of his wand (about which Professor Flitwick definitely would have started to cry), he fixed the broken pen. "Stupid muggle stuff, it's as useless as me. When the situation gets a bit tricky, it breaks!" His frustration turned him into the silly little boy he had been with seven years.

- Flashback –

The beautiful lady dragged her sobbing son through the wintry streets of the Knockturn Alley. Her hair, as black as his ringlets, shimmered softly under the pale sun. Everybody stared at her, but not because of her crying child, no. She was absolutely dazzling, no doubt. Although her skin had the typical dark olive skin of the Mediterranean people, she was pale, with a cool charisma. Now, she appeared to be annoyed, her dark brown eyes seemed as if they wanted to prove that looks could kill. The reason for her anger? An absolutely adorable little boy clinging to her hand who sobbed in a disturbingly high tone. His mother obviously had lost her nerves and decided to change her method. She let go of her son and accelerated her steps, leaving the little one exactly where he was as he was too hysterical to do any further move without her. His moaning grew even louder and he reached out for her arms.  
"Oh come on, Blaise. Aren't you a bit too old to behave like this? I thought I had a strong son, more a man than a baby boy!" Her eyes grew soft when she turned around and opened her arms. The boy tried to suppress his sobbing and hurried to reach her side again. She kneeled down and hugged him tightly, whispering into his ear: "I told you I had to buy something for your father and **then** we'd go to have some ice cream at Fortescue's!" "But Mommy, I don't like it here! Let's go somewhere else, please! Can't you buy daddy's things in the Diagon Alley?" The woman had to fight hard not to laugh as she looked into his begging grey eyes but to keep her severity. "Blaise, basta piangere! You don't want your father to hear this!"  
Of course he didn't. His father was the person he admired most – and whose anger he feared more than anything else. He didn't want to disappoint him. Thus, he suppressed his fear and silently followed his mother through the dark alley.

– END OF FLASHBACK –

This ridiculous fear of Knockturn Alley had not left him until the age of fifteen. At this time, he had spent complete nights on graveyards and other dark places and also done a midnight shopping tour at this place. During his rebellious years had disappointed his father way more often than necessary just because he had felt the need to do so. His father's anger had lost a lot of its power ever since the day an extremely venomous snake had bitten his neck. Only with an incredible effort, the Healers had been able to save his life – but ever since, he lived a rather deprived existence in a wheelchair. Blaise had had great fun scoffing at this man he secretly loved still. He had been silly at the age of seven, at the age of fifteen and he might still be silly with 80 years.  
_6) It's stupid to fall in love. That's exactly why I did it. I've been created to commit stupidities.  
7) It's masochistic to fall in love with a Malfoy because they only love power. They would betray friends and foes if it served them anything.  
8) Draco nothing but used me. And I would always offer myself again to be his servant.  
_It fitted him well to do something masochistic. He had always been into movies like Titanic or books like Pride and Prejudice, just because of their tragedies. He had even cried at the end of "Romeo and Juliet". Silently, far away from others.  
_9) I've always been too girly to be a man. Of course I must be gay. _

A wave of despair and self-pity washed through him. He felt lost, lonely and worthless. But he didn't want to drown in these feelings. Just like at the age of seven, he suppressed his fears and helplessness and started writing again:

_You cracked me like a nut  
To suck my heart and chew and spit it out  
You leave me cracked up  
Defenceless, nameless and without a doubt  
You knew exactly what __(You'd cause if you don't stop)__  
What did you gain except the certainty  
So what did you get out  
Of knowing you can make a fool of me  
__**(I could have told you before)**_

_10) It hurts like hell. _


	8. A Surprise

Dean

As usual, no character I use is mine, they're all part of JK Rowling's masterpiece Harry Potter.

Impatiently, he watched the sheet of paper as if he were hoping that something new, something hopeful would show up. But nothing happened – of course. Instead, a strict voice called his name with its usual tone of courteous distance: "Mr. Zabini!" He knew he had to react. This teacher had always been fair with him even despite the obvious rivalry between her house and his. "Yes, Professor McGonagall?" "What are you doing here instead of participating Professor Trelawney's Divination class?" She knew so much about each and every student, it was absolutely impressive. But the difficulty was now how to defend himself without harming Trelawney? "Well, she … uhm… she lost count of the time and dismissed us a bit before the official end of the lesson, I would say. I swear, Professor, I'm telling you the truth!" he added without even thinking about it. _What are you doing? You didn't do anything wrong, so stop behaving like a dog! You're a Slytherin!_ It was not the first time he thought this with a hint of disapproval. His own house teacher surely wouldn't have reacted with a little smirk and the words: "I have to admit, your excuse sounds probable to me. So, please, would you be so kind as to help me with some books for our lesson? This way!"

Without a word, Blaise followed Professor McGonagall through the aisles of the castle to the library, where she stuffed a huge pile of heavy books, bound in dark brown leather, into his arms. He wasn't sure, but he thought to see her throw some suspicious glances on his face, glances of both curiosity and worry. He sighed. Of course – word of his very special "coming-out" must have also reached the teachers' lounge. When they arrived at the classroom – McGonagall still strong and erect, Blaise feeling as if he were covered in sweat – they still had not exchanged a further word. Nevertheless Blaise had the strong and confusing sensation of being protected by McGonagall's calming presence. Thus, he wasn't too startled seeing everybody already waiting more or less impatiently, everybody including Draco Malfoy. Strange. He had almost forgotten about the fact that they usually spent this lessons together, even sitting at the same desk. _Oh great, that's exactly what I need. 90 minutes close to him_.

Desperately, he tried to come up with something he could say to answer the usual question "how's it going?", but he couldn't find anything that wasn't a complete lie. Nevertheless, his worries were superfluous: Draco obviously didn't want to talk to him. He didn't even look at his former best friend (in case any Malfoy had a best friend). Silently, they went into the classroom. Silently, they sat down. While everybody was chatting about their weekends or their last classes, Draco and Blaise didn't exchange a word. After twenty minutes, Blaise began to feel uneasy because of the angry aura exuded by Draco's whole body. To even deteriorate his situation, Professor McGonagall gave them the task to read a certain chapter of the book and discuss it with their partners. Two Gryffindors had already started to argue heatedly, from the other desks arrived more or less quiet whisper, but they still didn't speak or even look at each other. Blaise had read the chapter three or four times up to now and there were several questions his mind was burning to discuss, but he simply couldn't begin any kind of conversation.

"Mr. Zabini, would you please come with me? We cannot have the two of you not speaking while Thomas and Finnigan are about to yell at each other." _Oh yes, Heaven exists. Thanks to my new personal Guardian Angel._ With a short nod towards the silent boy he had so much to tell, he rose from his chair and sat down next to Dean Thomas. After some seconds of awkward silence, both boys threw away the prejudices of the houses and started talking. The dark-skinned Gryffindor with his huge black eyes and the funny dreadlocks had interesting background information Blaise absorbed impatiently. As he threw a glance at Draco and What-was-his-name-again Finnigan he couldn't suppress a soft smirk: Finnigan really tried to be kind and to get something like an answer, but Malfoy – with an adorably pouting mouth – refused to say anything. After some patient attempts, his discussion partner gave up and scribbled something on his sheet of parchment. Blaise was about to get lost watching his love, when Dean interrupted his thoughts:

"You like him, don't you?" _What the hell?_ He thought this way too often these days... "I don't think this is your business" Blaise answered harshly. _I have to be more careful. _"So it's true? It wasn't a bet or something?" Dean didn't seem to lose his calmness. Blaise instead did. "What the hell are you talking about? Stop these hints and speak clearly!" "I was wondering", absentmindedly, Dean played with one of his black strands, "whether your confession was true or not. And I thought it was better to ask you myself and not to listen to the rumours. I don't like rumours, you know?"His black eyes were shaded by old pain, never forgotten sadness. Blaise felt the strange need to soften this boy's suffering, but the teacher's voice kept him from asking further information. "I want you to write down the main points of your discussions, the parts in which you agreed and those where you disagreed. Thanks, this is it for today. Mr. Zabini, Mr. Thomas, would you collect the books and bring them back into the library? Zabini, do you remember where they belong? Blaise nodded, and the two boys silently started working.

On their way back from the library, Dean seemed even sadder than before, all high spirits appeared to have escaped. Blaise screwed up his courage, put a hand on the Gryffindor's shoulder – _dang it, I'm touching one of those red ones... _– and said: "If you need someone to talk to, I might be a Slytherin, but I know what it means to shut up and listen." _What the freaking hell am I talking about? I sound as if I were a character of a book by Cecilia Ahern! _"Nice from you, dude. But I guess the time is over in which shutting up can really help me." For the fraction of a second, Dean placed his hand on Blaise's and closed his eyes, before he softly retreated from the touch. "We don't want you to get into trouble, right?" he said and smiled sadly. "I just hope you'll soon be with the one you love. He'd be an idiot to reject you."

When he hurried away, he left behind a completely startled Blaise. He had expected everything from a boy of the hostile house – but not pity and understanding. He spent his History of Magic class and the lunch break pondering half about Dean's behaviour and how to proceed in this thing which had the potential to become a friendship.

Thanks for reading. I have to admit that I'm not that happy about this chapter. It would need a lot of time to get it into a fluent, nice form without any vagueness. Let's see where it takes me during the next chapter. If you have any ideas or recommendations concerning contents and grammar/style, please feel free to review.


	9. Conversations & Confessions

Conversations and Confessions

He was still quite confused when he walked out of the Great Hall – and still hadn't lost even a thought about Draco Malfoy during the past 180 minutes. _This_, he thought bitterly, _has to be a new record. _But still, he didn't feel too good with his new situation. Instead, he felt as if he would drown if he couldn't convince at least Dean Thomas to be at his side. One source of pain seemed to be at least have decreased and then, all of a sudden, another showed up. He knew, he **should **speak to Dean, but he couldn't find the strength to do so or a way to begin a conversation. Yet, a second person who became more and more important to him and to whom nevertheless he didn't manage to speak, felt more than he could bear. But how should he begin?

"Erm, Blaise? Could I speak to you for a moment?" Dean had obviously been waiting for him, hidden behind a pillar next to the door closest to the Slytherin table. Although his voice was soft, merely more than a whisper, Blaise jumped because of the shock. He had been so deep in his confusing dull grey thoughts that he hadn't even noticed having gotten up from the table. After a second in which he tried to focus on this simple question, he answered "Sure. I'm all ears." "Well, it's a bit complicated. Why don't we just walk together down to the forest? We share Care of Magical Creatures right now, don't we?" Blaise could only nod. He didn't know whether he could face any more complications in his life, but he had promised Dean to listen to him if necessary. Dean, with his hands deep in his pockets and his head hanging (_sounds pretty strange to me, but my favourite online dictionary told me so…)_, began to walk slowly as if he didn't want to be within earshot of the others.

"You know, I don't really know where to start. I don't even know why I'm speaking to you about this. First, because you're a Slytherin. Second, because I thought that my story had been all over Hogwarts three years ago" Blaise grinned. Three years ago, he hadn't given anything about the stories of others as his own had been way more interesting… Suddenly, he felt a punch between his ribs "Hey, would you please listen!?!" Dean's angry voice ripped him out of his daydreams. Impatiently, he shook his head, trying to chase away the images and – few – memories he still had of these days. Instinctively, he felt that his entire attention was requested; he saw it in Dean's eyes. "Sorry. I'm all ears." The other boy scrutinized him critically, and then nodded.

"Allright. Three years ago, I fell for a Ravenclaw. He was my brother's friend, a Sixth-year and tutored me in Potions, if I remember correctly" "_A he? Well, _Blaise thought cynically, _at least I'm not the only weirdo around..._ "You can't imagine how incredibly confused I was. Butterflies in my stomach, knees turning into jelly – everything. I don't seem like it, but I've been raised rather traditionally. Sex and everything that belongs in this section of life isn't something you talk about that easily. When I found out that I'm gay I really thought I was mentally disabled or something like this. There was nobody I could talk to. It was really hard to accept these feelings and at first, my potions mark even got worse than better because I couldn't focus on anything but my sexual orientation. Then, one day, Peter asked me openly why he should waste his time on helping me if I didn't even listen. After weeks nearly without sleep, a time I merely existed, torturing myself because I couldn't accept my gayness, I answered him frankly that I loved him. And that I couldn't listen to him because it was HIS voice to scream and laugh at me in my nightmares."

Deep in pain, Dean's face turned almost grey. He avoided Blaise's gaze and stared down at his trembling hands. "You gotta think that I'm a complete wimp. But he was my first love – and the only one, up to now. Unfortunately, he didn't feel that way for me", he grinned bitterly "he couldn't even stand me. Two days later, all Hogwarts knew about me. Peter obviously stopped our tutoring and never spoke to me again. My marks got even worse and I had to leave Hogwarts. Don't want to bother you with any further details, but I had a really tough time. When I returned to the school some weeks later, with some more energy, a lot of people talked to me – or rather, about me. If I hadn't had Seamus – I don't know where I'd be now. He caught me any time he felt like losing ground. And I guess that's why I want to help you. Because I know what it feels like to be all alone."

Silence fell on them like snow – soft and calming. Dean's voice had become more and more quiet and the last words had been even inaudible. Blaise felt the strong urge to touch Dean's face, this shimmering brown skin. Instead, he took the other boy's dark hands between his long pale fingers and steadied them.

For a long time, they didn't speak a word.

This is it for now. I don't know yet how it's going to continue… We'll see. If you have any ideas, please let me know. You can do as well if you liked/disliked this chapter and the rest of my story.


	10. Summer Time

„Blaise?" Dean was the first one to speak again. Blaise still lost in the comforting silence, only muttered "hmmm?" in order to keep up the atmosphere. "You don't have to do this. Comfort me and stuff. You still have a good reputation to lose. Okay, it might be a bit scratched because of the Malfoy-thing", Blaise shuddered, "but still. I you spend time with a lousy Gryffindor, you could really get into some social trouble. I don't want you to get into trouble. I shouldn't have told you this, I shouldn't…"

Suddenly, the dark boy was sobbing tearlessly. Blaise needed some seconds to understand what was going on, that Dean actually was crying for him. That somebody else was really worried about _his _reputation. This was usually his own job – if it was anybody's. He didn't care that much about other people's opinion and thus, he didn't have to think about what others might say about him being with a Gryffindor. He softly loosened the other's desperate, almost painful grip around his hands. "It's okay, let go", he whispered and pulled him closer until Dean's dread locks touched his shoulders. Slowly, the sobbing vanished while Blaise caressed Dean's muscular back. How strange. Even though the other boy was a bit taller and at least six kilos heavier, he seemed so _small_, so fragile. There had to be some way to ease his pain, to make him stop crying! Blaise didn't even think about it, he just started talking.

"I don't really have a good reputation at stake. As you were about your story, I'm surprised that mine isn't famous all about Hogwarts. You know, there was a time three years ago in which nobody, not even the best observer of human kind would have considered me as gay. I spent my nights with a lot of beautiful girls. Well, more or less beautiful and varying at least every, let's say, two weeks. I don't remember exactly what drove me, but I think I was looking for love and protection. It was hard to be away from home, especially from my mother. She's very special, you know?", he smiled briefly, then his voice and face became serious again, "Maybe I was searching for the one who could give me what I was given by my family. But all these girls only satisfied my desire – well, some of them not even that. As my lust decreased, I tried to keep it up by drinking alcohol. It was sort of a vicious circle until I found a way to express myself, the inner conflict I felt. It was summer time…

--- FLASHBACK---

It was indeed summer time. Thousands of German, American and Japanese tourists filled the historical centre of Pisa, Tuscany. Blaise and his friends Simone and Michele, both four years older and dark appearances, were sitting in the middle of the famous Piazza dei Miracoli, watching the crowd. Each of them wore the very same expression on their flawless faces: ironical, calm – superior. They shared a bottle of Vernaccia di San Gimignano – of course a good one. None of them had to worry about how much they could spend for a bottle of wine– they simply took everything they wanted to have. It was wonderful to feel the cool, almost sparkling wine run down their throats while the tourists around them were covered in sweat. Of course, the alcohol didn't miss its effects under the hot summer sun. Blaise was quite aware of the fact that he became more lightheaded with every sip he took. He watched around – a lot of good-looking girls in short skirts were taking photos with the famous tower or lying in the green-brown grass like he was. He smiled at one tiny fifteen-year-old with a freckled skirt and a Hello-Kitty-shirt; the poor thing remained completely dazzled, not even smart enough to re-close her mouth.

"Blaise, keep it down! You don't want all the nice ones to get a heart attack when they see you, right?", Simone's TADEL didn't really sound serious – and of course he wasn't. He had great fun kidding about Blaise's good looks, once he had gotten used to it. None of the three boys was really bad-looking, but Simone couldn't help but always look messy – and Michele's shape was rather round than slim. Nevertheless, they didn't envy him – instead, they had saved him from two or three pissed off boyfriends whose girls hadn't been able to forget Blaise's smile. It had been so easy to make them fall for him – a walk under the moonlight, some sweet words, a soft kiss... Life had been so easy... Then, he met **her** – and everything changed. Elena was a beautiful intelligent girl – almost a woman. She didn't fall for him, even though he had tried harder than ever. He had even sent her flowers and a love letter with some poetry. She refused him each time he tried to get close to her, until that very last night. The usual walk at night – the sky had never been more beautiful – the words he stumbled instead of whispering them seducingly as they were true for the first time, a kiss that blew his mind away...

The next day, she left for Venice and never returned. She left him broken-hearted and he fell. He started drinking, smoking – not only cigarettes. He continued illegally to do so when the summer holidays ended and he returned to Hogwarts. There, he frantically started to seduce every girl around as if to prove to himself that he still was the man he used to be.

But he wasn't. His depression didn't fade and with every female body leaving his bed, he felt worse. Until he discovered a way to cure his heart: A piano and a guitar he found when he passed the Room of Wonders searching for "a room to find myself" – these words were almost literally written into the deepest parts of his memory. He had spent hours in there, playing and playing and playing without even knowing any notes.

--- END OF FLASHBACK

"Blaise? Are you still there?" Again, Dean's voice ripped him out of his painful memories and his soft touch on Blaise's arm somehow prevented the usual neck-breaking crash. Blaise needed some seconds to confirm it, but indeed. This was the first time he had allowed the memories to come up and his heart didn't feel like bursting into thousands of little pieces. There was only this tiny itch, but it was supportable. Thus, he grinned triumphantly and answered: "Yep, more than ever! Sorry, but I was sort of lost in thoughts. Thanks, I'm fine" Things definitely seemed to get better. He had needed them to do so. He couldn't stand any more pain or sufferance, needed to get back into shape. Suddenly, he felt the strong urge to be alone – alone with his guitar. "Thank you for your help, Dean. Honestly. I hope you don't mind, but I need to be for myself a bit. See you at dinner, right?"

He had hoped things would get better. But the strange look in his new friend's eyes he saw before hurrying down the stairs suggested difficulties.

_Dang it. _

* * *

That's it for this time. I hope I'll be back soon =)  
Thanks for your attention and I'd be glad (as usual) to hear your comments and constructive criticism.


	11. No Way Out

hey, hey, hey, it's me again!

This ff is getting close to its end. I can't tell you how much fun I had writing it.

Thanks to Nellwantstobeavampirealso for your attention and your reviews. Sorry, but it seems hard to sum up what has happened in the last chapters. Maybe this one will help you to remember =)

Deno: Waye =) Finally, I managed to continue! Thanks for kicking my ass and making me write =) I'm looking foward to seeing you again in July – and to realising your next great idea!

As usual, none of the characters is mine. And the quoted song is Rhapsody by System of a Down – listen to it! It's great!

No way out

He was really, really glad to be alone, to find the dormitory deserted. Following the ritual he had established in the last months, he kicked his shoes into the farthest corner of the room and threw the socks there as well. After opening his pony tail, he put on an IRON-MAIDEN band shirt and a bleached out pair of jeans. With his guitar in his hands, he sat down on his always well-ordered bed and started playing. His hands hadn't found any precise notes they wanted to play and like this, simply touched, and caressed the strings. The chords varied softly as if they had been written on a sheet of paper in order to please everyone's ears. While his fingers magically called this melody, his mind began to wander. He didn't need his brain to play the guitar the way he did now, and this gave him the possibility to think about the last days, his feelings and his future. He knew that things couldn't go on the way they did. Draco wouldn't change – of course not. _He's a Malfoy, after all._ Thus, Blaise himself had to find a way to save what was left of him.

"_I have a problem that I cannot explain, I have no reason why it should have been so plain"_ – System of a Down's Rhapsody had been one of his favourites a long time ago – surprisingly, he still knew both notes and lyrics by heart. _I don't know how I feel when I'm around you, around you, around you, around you…_ He had been lost in the feelings, in his personal way of interpreting this beautiful song. But when the last chord faded, he felt a presence in the room. Even before he had looked up, he knew who was sitting on Goyle's bed, watching him. He couldn't help but being annoyed about the disturbance and threw an evil glance at his former friend.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have a real talent for destroying peaceful situations?"

Draco looked, well, not startled, but almost – hurt. Nevertheless, Blaise fought against the urge to jump to his feet, take the other boy's hands and caress this pain away. Instead, he put the guitar back into its bag, folded his hands and asked: "What do you want?"

DRACO'S POV

Well, that was a good question. He didn't really know what he wanted. But he knew what he didn't want anymore. Being without his former friend and ally was definitely more than he could – would – bear. A Malfoy didn't accept uncomfortable circumstances if he could change them. And usually, people were more than pleased to follow a Malfoy's wishes. He had expected a different expression in Blaise's eyes: full of friendship and comprehension. Maybe it was too much to expect open arms but... well, he had hoped for them. But Blaise's very first sentence had destroyed all hopes concerning a peaceful, easy meeting. The moment he got aware of that, Draco felt close to tears. This was one of the few times he simply didn't know what to do. Didn't Blaise understand how hard everything was for him? Didn't he see how much he, Draco, needed him? That he just hadn't found out the exact way he needed him? "Blaise..." he whispered, almost inaudibly.  
The wonderful blue eyes scrutinized him coldly, before the other boy repeated his question: "What the bloody hell do you want, Dray?" Draco opened his mouth to speak – and closed it again. He was afraid of whatever he might say – and what this might cause to Blaise. For Heaven's sake, he was a Malfoy! Not a weak anybody! "I simply wanted to make sure that you're not"... _that you're not too hurt by my brainless behaviour..._ he wanted to say, but he couldn't. "...doing any stupidity" he closed lamely. Blaise's gaze got icy and Draco felt as if he would freeze as well if he had to look into these eyes another time. He looked away, out of the window, where a dark, almost black sky promised a rainstorm. In this moment, the first thunder rumbled menacingly and Blaise's next words, only whispered, became completely inaudible. Draco pulled his eyebrows together, knowing exactly that he would be understood. So often had they played this game of nonverbal communication, both of them knew that this gesture meant: "Pardon?" And in fact, Blaise opened his mouth again – but now he was the one not being able to speak anymore. Draco fought against the need to get up, sit down next to his friend and hug all the uncertainties away. Only few times had they had real physical contact and it always had meant something special, incredibly reassuring to him. This was one of the reasons why Draco hated being separated from Blaise. It was as if a part of him was missing.

The silence between them grew bigger and bigger – and with each second more unsupportable. Once again, he looked into Blaise's dark blue eyes – and winced. They were not cold and scrutinizing anymore, but full of pain. Pain he himself had caused.

Draco fixed the dark sky and the raindrops when he started talking:

"The truth is that I ... I miss you. I miss the time we spent together. Once upon a time, we were friends and nothing could stop us. You understood me without any further words and gave me the feeling of security. I felt _save _when I was with you. You didn't care about Malfoy junior, son of Lucius – but about Draco Emanuel. We were an unbeatable team – power and good looks, money and fascination. I never have connected to anybody the way I felt and still feel connected to you."

He got interrupted by a sound he had definitely _not_ expected: laughter. Blaise had started laughing in a bitter way. "Oh Dray, come on. That's a really evil game you're playing! I admit it – you're right. _Once upon a time_, we were a team. Slytherin's real princes. People had some nice nicknames for us. Then, I committed a mortal crime. I fell for you. Of course, this _had_ to destroy me. Being in love with a Malfoy is sort of like fighting against the Dark Arts. You can't win. I know this now. I fought hard to forget you – I can't. I can't forget the feelings I had during this one night we spent together. I never will. But I will let go of you. You will find another ally. Maybe you can't buy yourself sympathy. But your money and your power will give you the possibility to achieve everybody's loyalty. You will need loyal allies on your way, Dray. You are going to be one of the most powerful persons of all Britain. I know about the plans you have for your career. I would only hinder you, destroy your reputation. You want to study law, I know. What do you think are your co-students at Harvard going to say if they find out you have a gay friend who is in love with you? No. I couldn't stand this. I couldn't live with the omnipresent certainty of having ruined your life."

Draco had to fight hard against the tears. He hadn't cried for years, but now, as Blaise interrupted himself, his voice soft and a bit husky, he felt his eyes getting wet. "You don't... You won't...", he stuttered _...You will never ruin my life. You gave it a bit of light and I will always be grateful for everything you did for me._

Blaise's cool fingers pressed softly against his lips and he shuddered.

"Dray, you've never been good at saying good-bye. You told me that once, when we spent the night on the Astronomy tower because we had to do two hours of Detention. Tomorrow, I won't be here anymore. I'm going to America, to make music. I will talk to Dumbledore and I'm sure he will let me go. I've never been much of a good student anyway." Both of them knew that this was a lie, but it was one of the lies supposed to ease pain. Thus, Draco didn't respond and Blaise calmly continued talking about the future he had planned carefully, "in case anything prevented him from becoming an official at the Ministry of Magic".

Draco remained speechless when Blaise slowly stepped out of the room, directed verso the Headmaster's office. He was going to leave. _No! No! NO!_ Draco wished to lie down on Blaise's bed, hide his face in the green cushion and cry. He had never felt this lonely; he had always had someone by his side. Oh sure, there were his famous body guards and they would remain close to him. Once, in his first year at Hogwarts, he had been fine with their physically strong presence, the feeling that they made him special. But this was different. Blaise had always given him the feeling of being _normal_, of having a personality behind the mask made from names and duties.

But now, this was over. He himself had destroyed everything. He was alone. Hot pain rushed through his veins. Desperately, he tried to find a solution for this cursed situation. He could declare Blaise to be his friend, whatever might happen. But he knew that the other boy wouldn't accept. Too _right_ had he been with his visions about the future. Having a gay friend and not sending him to hell meant weakness – he would lose in the game of who was the toughest (and thus best) lawyer. Maybe he could ... theoretically; there were many officially gay advocates. He could live together with Blaise and declare him his boyfriend.

He saw the two of them in a huge bed, sunlight, soft glances – and felt great warmth in his stomach. This was a dream he definitely liked. Living together would be easy as breathing, and maybe he would fall in love with Blaise one day. Maybe... Unfortunately, a Malfoy can never stop being a Malfoy. He heard his father's voice in his head, quiet and menacingly calm. "You will not, under any circumstance, live a life like this. Draco Emanuel Lucius Malfoy, did you understand?""Yes, father", he would answer and bow his head.

"DAMN IT! Why me?" he yelled and threw himself onto his own bed. He couldn't cry, but he fell into a silent and painful confusion that lasted.

BLAISE'S POV

When he re-entered the room two hours later, he found Draco lying motionless on his bed, still completely dressed. He smiled softly at this view and caressed the other boy's cheek. He looked so young and vulnerable when he was sleeping... Blaise's heart yelled at him to change his mind, to stay. But he couldn't. He would not, for his egoistic feelings, destroy the life of the boy he loved.

With a casual movement of his wand, he prepared his luggage for the next day before he went to bed. He remained completely dressed and spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, living through many wonderful memories of his last years at Hogwarts.


	12. A Special Letter

Dear everyone,

Following **l_4_u_r_4 ()**'s well-founded review (thanks. ma chérie, for your careful reading and your corrections), I changed some details in the text, leaving the content exactly the way it has been before.

Please excuse that it's taken me this long to make up this chapter. I had to decide which end this fanfic will take. And I'm afraid it might at least take two more chapters – without any quotations of ASP's wonderful "Demon Love". (Have you watched it on youtube??? Have you? Not? Then GO AND DO IT!) Please don't be surprised about the lack of sadness and pain in this chapter. I've tried to ease Blaise's life at least for a bit…

I would be grateful to read your reviews and constructive criticism. Ah yes, and your wishes for what you want to happen to Blaise, Dray and Dean…

**Disclaimer**: The characters are (despite the shop assistant) created by J.K. Rowling. If I got Hagrid's way of talking wrong – sorry. It's been a long time since I read the last English Harry Potter.  
Pomarance is an adorable village in Tuscany close to the geothermic power station of Larderello. If by case you get to visit this place, have a look at Casa Bicocchi. The lady who does guided tours (at least she did them in January 2009 and the years before) is wonderful. =)

A special letter

Blaise got up very early this morning, at about 4:30 am. He hadn't slept very much at all, but still, he felt wide awake. It was as if tons of adrenaline were rushing through his veins, typical consequence of having taken an important decision. Although there was a bit of light already shining through the windows – possibly of magical derivation? – he didn't even have to fight too hard against throwing a last glance at Draco's sleeping face. He dressed quietly and left the dormitory. There was still so much time left as he had to leave at approximately 6 o`clock. Without even thinking about it, he took one last walk through the corridors he had liked best, even said goodbye to the classrooms. He forced himself to be optimistic and, strangely, it wasn't as hard as he had expected. He was so _sure _that what he was doing was right that he, when he softly stroke the now empty frame of a famous English writer, felt as if leaving all the pain behind. Luckily, he was one of the persons who, once having taken a decision, abided by with determination. He walked into the inner courtyard of the castle and sat down on the cold hoarfrost-covered grass to write a short letter of goodbye to the school that had been his home for so many years. Next, he went into the Great Hall where he was supposed to meet Hagrid. The Keeper of Keys and Grounds had "coincidentally" some business to do in Diagon Alley and thus was going to London exactly this day. Blaise didn't believe in coincidences, anyways. Up to now he didn't even have an idea how they were supposed to get there, but he was sure that he would find out very soon.

Lost in thoughts, he sipped the hot, sweet coffee a caring house elf had prepared for him and watched the exact copy of a sunrise displayed by the magical ceiling. He didn't feel like eating a lot and thus simply stuffed an apple into one of the many pockets of his leather jacket. It felt strange to sit in the quiet Great Hall, not wearing the school uniform. About half an hour later – he had already taken his luggage outside the castle – Hagrid arrived, breathing heavily. "Good, ya ready. Let's go", he panted and walked hastily towards the weirdest means of transport Blaise had ever seen.

_Oh come on_, he called himself to order, _this is just a motorbike. Calm it_. But obviously, this huge machine wasn't only a motorbike. It fitted Hagrid's size quite well and when he got onto it, Blaise felt a bit uneasy. Did he _really _want to put his life on the wheels of this… thing? _Well, don't have this much of a choice, anyway_. He shrugged – and was frozen of shock. With an ear-deafening thunder, the motorbike roared to life. It took them the castle's complete driveway to speed up until the final take-off - direction? London.

Despite the deafening rumble of the bike, they travelled in silence under the pale pink, cloudless sky and Blaise thanked god that he had put on the heavy jacket. It was beautiful to be outside with the weather being so much better than the last days. Nevertheless, it was freezing cold, even for a British April. With melancholy, he thought back how beautiful his Tuscany would look now. Flowers would be blooming everywhere, their heavy, sweet scent seducing his senses. Maybe, maybe he could find a low cost flight to Pisa… or Florence… Sitting uncomfortably bent double on the motorbike he started to dream of green fields, caffé shakerato and long nights under a starlit sky.

When he woke up from his day dreams, Hagrid had landed the enormous motor bike on a parking lot somewhere in the outer quarters of London, between 6-stored houses and full garbage cans. It was only after having parked the bike properly and taking Blaise's luggage that Hagrid made the first sound of the last hours: he yawned. Then he looked at Blaise with his dark eyes and said: "C'm on, let's go into the city and have some breakfast. Starving."

Blaise had never estimated the Keeper of Keys and Grounds to be outstandingly intelligent and his way of speaking in frictions instead of complete sentences didn't change this impression. With a single nod he gestured agreement, shouldered the backpack containing his guitar and followed the half-giant. Silently they walked through empty streets that looked as if no one had ever placed his foot on their crackled asphalt. Nevertheless, it took them less than fifteen minutes to reach London's centre. Here, there was much more traffic, both cars and pedestrians hurrying to be in time for appointments or conferences. Hagrid seemed completely calm, moving effortlessly through the scrimmage despite his size. He parted the crowd in front of the rather slim Blaise who felt smaller and less important than ever. Of course he had been born in a rather big city, but London was … different. Florence didn't have all these shiny buildings, sky-scrapers and cars driving chaotically on the wrong side of the street. With one glance only, Hagrid got aware of the boy's insecurity and led him into a tiny, "pasticceria" – called bakery with "original Italian dolcees". _Okay, let's simply forget the fact that they don't even know how to spell "dolci" _(which is the grammatically correct form)_ and try them nevertheless. Again, I don't have much of a choice anyways._

Yet, he didn't mean to let them go that easily. He was an evil Slytherin, after all. _Had been. _(AN: Okay, okay, Mr. Know-it-all!). Thus, he asked the shop assistant, a bored woman with black curls in fluent and quick Italian to bring him "un cappuccio e un cornetto alla crema pasticcera – pronto, mi raccomando!" An incredulous glance, a grin and an avalanche of words in deep Tuscan accent were her response. Blaise couldn't help but chat a bit with her, asking where she came from (Pomarance), why she had come to London (had followed her love) and why she had spelt "dolci" wrong (laughter – she had written that at 4 o'clock in the morning after her daughter's marriage). Of course, he was asked the same questions (NOT including the one concerning dolci, of course!) but luckily, the coffee machine had finished his cappuccino and he could sit down next to Hagrid who was watching him, apparently confused.

"What is it?"

"First – got a bit of milk all over your face. Second: hate not understanding what others talk 'bout, but that's my deal. Third: Ya know wat'cha gonna do, kid? I mean, can't leave you here without any plans and money." Hagrid's obvious worries and care made him smile and for the blink of an eye, Blaise's soft side got visible. "That's fine. Thanks for bringing me to London. I will get along. I guess, I will visit the local bank for a second and then find myself a nice place to travel to. You don't have Monte dei Paschi here in England, do you?"

He knew that they didn't, but every measure is allowed if you have to look adult enough to care for yourself. Hagrid hesitated, but then looked into Blaise's dark blue eyes. Despite the milk and crumbs around his mouth, this boy seemed determined and calm. He cleared his throat and then murmured something like : "right, then. buzz off. Feel invited. Ah, yeah. This", he got a think envelope out of his pocket, "is for you. Dumbledore gave it to me."

Blaise nodded speechlessly and took the envelope. He tried to pronounce "thank you", but he couldn't. He smiled shyly and rushed out of the bakery. Quickly, he began to walk into the direction most cars and people were heading and after the quarter of an hour arrived at Trafalgar square. There, he sat down, and looked at the crumpled envelope for about five minutes before opening it.

_Dear Mr. Zabini, _

_Unfortunately, you are leaving our wonderful school today. I have to admit that I am really sorry  
about your decision. I've never tried to force my students to follow my ideas instead of their own  
ones. Although, seeing everything from the retrospective, it might have been smarter to do so, once in  
a while. But I am sure that you will find your way without dust-covered school books. Studying, if I  
remember correctly, had never been your __favourite__ pastime. Nevertheless, you combine some of the  
character traits I'm mostly looking for amongst my students. You are able to connect with both  
students of your own house and class and those who belong to neither your house nor class. One  
of my most important chores as a Head teacher is to be aware of the relations between my students. It  
was an enormous pleasure to me to see you spending some time with Dean Thomas. He hasn't had  
an easy time at Hogwarts up to now and I'm sure that you helped him to overcome the obstacles of  
the past. Did you know that his mother Danielle is a cleaner in a hospital of New York? I don't even  
know whether I'm allowed to tell you about her, but I assume you talked about topics a lot more  
delicate than your derivation.  
And of course one couldn't help to notice the change you've caused in Draco Malfoy. He is alarmingly  
quiet, not the bully – please forgive the expression – he is supposed to be. Yes, supposed to. Being a  
Malfoy seems to be one of the most difficult duties one could be born with. He has to leave feelings  
and friends behind and sacrifice everything for the political life he's been assigned to live. With you  
close to him, I saw him more human than he has ever been before. With a friend like you by his side,  
he might have managed to live a normal life, not the typical existence of a Malfoy. I've always felt  
sorry for his father as well – he had fought against his fate and when he finally graduated from  
Hogwarts and started his studies in America, he was a broken man. That's why he is so hard and  
severe with his son: He wants him to love the power, money and the possibilities a Malfoy owns.  
Why precisely, would you think, am I telling you all this? To be honest, I don't know it myself. It seems  
as if you can't only connect well with students of all houses but with senile Head teachers as well. I  
just would like to ask you not to be too angry with Draco and his __behaviour__ as I am quite sure about  
two things: a) if he could, he would do differently and b) he will suffer a lot when you're gone. You  
had a good, calming influence on him, I dare say. _

_I wish you good luck for your future and in case you need some shelter, please feel free to knock on Hogwarts'  
door as long as I'm its Head. Just don't bring any of your former pastimes (being bad music and worse drugs) with you. _

_Kind regards, yours_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_PS: As an attachment to this little letter of mine, you will find a city map of London and a short assessment of your capacities and works – in case you might need it for any kind of application _

Blaise was touched by how much his former Head teacher cared for him, regardless his own cold behavior during the conversation they had had this night. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He couldn't let any homesickness break his plans now, he needed to stay calm. He suppressed the sadness and the wish to turn back – it was too late anyways. He opened the map and had a quick look at it – he was good at orienting himself. With the next deep breath he got back on his feet, took his trunk and started walking towards the station of King's Cross.

It was time for the next step.


	13. An unexpected call

Demon Love – part 14

the usual DISCLAIMER I might have forgotten once in a while... I don't earn any money with this story. The wonderful song on which this ff is based belongs to the awesome band ASP. The main characters derive from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter.  
Here we go again:

AN UNEXPTED CALL

When Blaise arrived at the train station of King's Cross, he was covered in sweat. Although the way had not been that long, doing it with a heavy trunk in his hand had been demanding. A tiny bit short of breath, the boy sat down on his trunk and thought about his next steps. He had wanted to go to the next airport by train and then book a flight to the United States. So far about the short-sighted plans. But how the hell was he supposed to organize everything? He knew that his mother had given him a credit card and placed it into his bags. Was it in his trunk? Or had it been stuffed into a pocket of one of his various coats. This, to be honest, was more like her, being sure that he would remember where she put things she considered to be important. One might think the 16 years of experience of living together should have made her change her mind for the better. Unfortunately, Blaise's mother had always believed and would always believe in the perfect, thoughtful son she didn't have. If her naivety had guided her hand also in this case, the shiny credit card, worth a _lot_ of money would have ended in Hogwarts' washing machines – shredded into tiny pieces. Blaise thought about this for a while – it would have absolutely ruined his plans. As he was one of the few descendants of the Zabini family gifted by magic, he didn't have any fortunes at Gringott's – every little part of the money at his disposal was distributed on two or three modern bank accounts, nothing but numbers. _This can't be the end, this can't_, he thought desperately. No – there was one more chance left. With shaking hands he opened his wallet and searched every part of it. A few banknotes, insurance cards, his identity card – _here we go! Strike!_ Directly behind his picture ID there it was: silvery white, with a black magnetic stripe and his signature, the guarantee for his new life had been waiting for him since the day he had gotten it. With a bright grin, he pulled it out and found the PIN number neatly written on a tiny sheet of paper behind it. The grin didn't fade when he lined up in order to get a train ticket to Heathrow Airport even though he had to wait for about half an hour because some German tourists weren't able to get along with this stupid mechanism. Finally, they managed to get their tickets and about ten minutes later, the next stage of Blaise's journey began.

He loved going by train. The moment in which he had placed down his trunk and sat down, he immediately relaxed. The quiet tac-tac-tac of the train, a couple talking with soft voices and a mother humming to her almost sleeping baby gave him the sense of travelling through time and space. These sounds had always been audible on a train, in every century – and always would be. He was that distracted that he almost missed the station where he had to get off the train, his absentmindedness made him smirk. He was not used to the normal life anymore. The six years Blaise had spent at Hogwarts and thus in the magical world had completely spoiled his senses of timetables and other necessities. It took him some seconds to orientate himself, to find the way he had to go. Then, he walked over to the ticket counter and lined up. The women behind the desk wearing dezent make-up and a pitch black pixie cut seemed almost exaggeratedly willing to help him. Under dozens of bright smiles she asked for his picture ID and the matter of payment. Without a word he passed her his identity card and the shiny credit card, slightly smiling as he knew this was what she expected him to do.

Although the poor girl was a bit startled, she quite quickly found a flight to New York, departing the very same day at 20:14. She printed Blaise's dates on a sheet of paper and handed it to him, telling him that he needed this document for his checking. He nodded, gave her a dazzling thankful smile and strode off. So what was he supposed to do during the next six hours? To begin with, he got himself a plastic cup of coffee with milk and sugar and sat down on one of the uncomfortable benches the airport companies usually torture their clients with. Slowly, he drank his coffee and let his mind wander when his cell rang – a sound he hadn't heard for about six months as at Hogwarts there was absolutely no signal. The magical world definitely had its disadvantages! _Oh come one! I don't want to play hide and seek with a mobile phone!_ It took him at least a minute to find the impatiently ringing and vibrating thing. _What the hell?_ – CASA was written on the outer display. Home was calling. With the typical disapproving mimic you can see on so many Italian faces when they answer the phone, he opened his scratched SAMSUNG SGH ZM60. "Pronto?" "Blaise, I've just seen that an airline withdrew money from our bank account – what's going on with you?" Blaise couldn't help grinning. This was so typical for his mother. She was a catastrophe in the kitchen (which had already chased away more than only one interested man), but when it came to logical conclusions, she was absolutely unbeatable. Up to now, she seemed rather calm – good sign. She either had a new boyfriend or just gotten rid of the former one. Not even love itself pleased Mrs. Zabini more than the game of love. "Hi Mum, nice to hear you as well. You sound great. Listen, I've had some difficulties at school and now I'm off to something new. Nothing bad, nothing illegal, so don't worry. I'm going to America."

"You're going WHAT? What kind of problems did you have? Amore, you know you can always talk to me, right?" Blaise rolled his eyes. "Mamma! It's okay. I had some problems with a boy in my house that can't be resolved that easily. And now I'm off to make music in America – you know that this has always been my dream" _sort of... _"See, everything's fine. As soon as I've found a job, I'll pay back the money." The following response is not to be written down, as it consisted mostly of swearwords, directed towards the stranger and the places he should go. Blaise started laughing, hopelessly trying to calm down his mother's temper. After five minutes, she was done, gasping for breath. Before she could start again, he hurried to say: "It's not his fault, really. I sort of got myself in a stupid situation and... well. Whatever. It was nice to hear from you and I promise to call you as soon as I'm there. Ciao, mamma!"

He sighed, grinning. His mother was one of the greatest and one of the most important persons in his life – but sometimes, her way of seeing things was a bit annoying. Nevertheless, he loved her. Absentmindedly he looked at his cell's display: Tuesday, March 16th 14:30. There was still plenty of time left and obviously, he was the first one to check in. Sure, he wanted to sit at the window. Yes, he knew that every flight was a non-smoker flight. The blond boy behind the desk seemed to be a trainee – it took him at least ten minutes to correctly enter all data requested by the computer. Blaise, in order to pass the time, scrutinized him carefully. Although the boy was definitely stressed, his facial traits gave no hints of any worries besides the evil keyboard under his clumsy fingers. Finally, he managed to press the correct button and the computer started printing. "This is your seat, boarding starts at 19:45. Have a good journey" the young man said with a more than bored expression in his face. In this moment, Blaise looked into his eyes – and gasped. The other had exactly the same eyes like Draco Malfoy. "Are you alright?" _No I'm not you idiot! _"Yes, everything's fine. Thank you."

Under the incredulous glance of the airline employee, he strolled off, his guitar bag on his back and his documents in one shaking hand. _Dray, please. Leave me alone_ he begged. But he knew that Draco could neither hear him nor do anything for him. _Gotta live with it_, Blaise told himself severely – and then shuddered. How the hell was he supposed to live with a bleeding heart and his inner organs apparently turned to ice?

This was the next chapter of Demon Love. If I have committed any mortal crime concerning grammar – beg your pardon. I was and still am incredibly tired...  
I have to admit – I'm getting really attached to this ff. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it at least almost as much as I enjoy writing it. If you did (and also if you didn't and still have arrived at chapter 14...) I would love to read your comments, points of criticism, ideas for the next ff and so on. Silent readers who add a story to their favs are nice – review writers are better =)

Read you soon,

Cormaros


	14. Shortcut

Shortcut

DISCLAIMER: nothing is mine. as usual.

Blaise was completely spaced out. His hair, now covering his entire back, stuck to his skin in thick, wet strands and his face was as red as a traffic light. He knew he had to go and see his fans – the few he had – but he simply couldn't find the energy. Of course, his hair would look normal if he tied it into a pony tail and with fresh clothes and some cold water, he would be able to get back into shape. He always did. Soon enough, his face would regain the typical pallor of someone who only went outside at night. He would look fascinating, dark – even more like a vampire than before as he had past two almost sleepless nights and thus had dark shadows under his bright blue eyes. It would be so easy to find someone to keep him warm tonight. Everything had been ridiculously easy.

FLASHBACK

Alright – everything despite the critical point of getting a VISUM. Well, also in this case, the shiny credit card had worked wonders. His good luck had continued in the airplane. His neighbour, a slim, small man who had presented himself as Markus – "my last name would be too difficult for you anyways" had listened carefully to Blaise's story and spontaneously offered him to sleep in his son's room during the first time. "He is in Canada after all. And I know Fabian wouldn't mind". Calmly, Markus had begun to tell the story of his family as well. They were German, from a small town close to Frankfurt am Main – Markus and his wife Babette, their 19-year-old son Fabian and his sister Anika. "You have to be careful with my daughter Anika – she might be a bit difficult the first days", he had added smiling softly, "She's a fourteen years old power woman". Even though Markus made the best of all impressions, Blaise had expected the worst. He didn't like _difficult_ girls – his life was difficult enough without some teenage bitch bitten by their hormones. Nevertheless, there was not much of a choice – as usual.

To be honest, the "teenage bitch" had proved to be really cool. She usually spent half of her day playing the drums, banging her head and making her red curls jump. She almost looked adorable when she did this, almost hidden behind the huge drum set and effortlessly accompanying him when he sang his favourite rock or metal songs. Actually, Blaise had definitely enjoyed staying at their house, listening to all the CDs left in Fabian's CD case (Combining Nightwish, System of a Down and Flogging Molly) and – best of all – secretly driving Markus' blazing red motorbike. Nevertheless, he soon had started some research for jobs and low-cost apartments. He had wanted to move to a one-room thing with a tiny little bathroom, but his mother had simply refused to sign the contract. And as he still was only 17 years old he needed her signature. There was only one way to resolve this problem.

Two weeks after his arrival, he returned to the airport to pick up his mother. They went to several housing agencies, practically spending three days walking from one end of NY city to the next one before, finally, discovering a nice – nevertheless incredibly overpriced –apartment in East 93rd street. It was tastefully furnished and looked timeless, but the most important thing was that the neighbours obviously didn't care about anyone playing music all day long. Against Blaise's complains about the costs, his mother resolutely signed the contract and told him to get his trunk. The very same day, he moved in.

From this day on, his life had become a fairytale. He found a job as a waiter at an exclusive Italian restaurant and soon proved to be indispensable. He was always friendly and calm, giving each and every guest the impression to be the most important person of the evening. Even though he would have never thought it to be like this, Blaise loved his work and the Piano Due, especially when certain events such as marriages had to be organised. Nevertheless, his patience had been put on the test during the next year – there seemed to be no possibilities to get closer to his dream of making music. When he got home – rarely before 3 in the morning – he sometimes started experimenting with his guitar until the rising sun and his rumbling stomach told him to have some breakfast and get at least 4 hours of sleep. Many songs got composed in these early hours of the day but as time went by Blaise lost courage and patience and threw them into one of his cardboard boxed written "incomplete" on them. There were several moments – tendency increasing – in which he felt like screwing himself up and cram himself on top of all the paper.

Summer passed and made way for a rainy autumn. On October 25th, the Piano Due found itself head over heels or ceiling over floor, so to speak. A wedding of 400 persons took place in its rooms and organising the menu and positions of the tables took two weeks and the flower arrangements arrived exactly the morning of the wedding day. Blaise had been working 36 of the last 48 hours and was correspondingly tired, but tons of coffee helped him to keep up and put everything the way it was supposed to be. The wedding itself was splendid and the party went on until 5 in the morning. They even had organised a piano player and the beautiful Steinway and Sons concert piano kept on attracting Blaise's eyes every second he had the possibility to breathe.

When the party was over and almost all the guests had begun their way to their hotels, Blaise still felt completely agitated because of all the adrenaline running through his veins. In the soft light of innumerable candles, Blaise couldn't help but sit down at the piano and, after a deep breath, play all the sonatas and classical pieces he had taught himself so much time ago. He then changed into his favourite ballads and started to sing along quietly but with the same emotions he put into each and every song he sang. About twenty minutes later, a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder and when he looked up he saw the red face of the bride's uncle – if he remembered correctly. "Young man", the other said, smelling strongly of alcohol and handing him a shiny business card, "you're definitely talented. Just pass by on Monday and we'll see whether we can help you to get some gig..."

As polite as always, Blaise answered "sure, thank you sir" and put the card into his pocket. _Sure that you won't even remember me tomorrow when your body starts working on the entire wine and gin tonic you drank... _

-END OF FLASHBACK-

Oh yes, he had learned to estimate him better, this drunken man. Blaise grinned weakly. He had indeed been both a blessing and a curse.

What is about the drunken man? Had Blaise gotten his chance?

You'll read it in the next chapter.

Read you soon (sorry, I'm a bit spaced out... and I need some time to find out how to arrive at the poinrt where I want to arrive ;-) )

PS: The family really exists as well as the Restaurant. I can't say anything about the latter, but Markus, Babette, Anika and Fabi are wonderful =)


	15. Rebecca

A hard knock on the door interrupted Blaise's melancholic thoughts. "Blaise, get ready! They want to see you!" _But if I don't want to see them? _Of course, there was no choice. Indeed, Blaise's life sometimes seemed to him like a chain of choices that were not his to take. "Yes, Bruce, I'm coming! Give me one second only!" he called back and took one final deep breath. Tying his hair and re-doing his black eye-make up had become a routine anyways – he didn't even bother to throw a last glance into the mirror. He quickly washed his arms and neck as well as possible, applied some deodorant and eau de toilette – "Here we go", he sighed and opened the door. With slow, forceless steps, he crossed the long corridor leading to the small concert hall. It had been constructed for 500 people, but The Magic Fools _what a stupid name for a rock and metal band... _hardly found any more than 200 spectators. They usually combined solid covers of famous songs everybody was able to sing along to (such as **It's my life** and **Smells like teen spirit**) with carefully chosen songs not everyone knew but that were used to show the band's greatest advantage: Blaise's voice and its variety.

He loved to make people cry and jump in the interval of less than 5 minutes. Everyone but he himself was aware of the magical effect his way of singing had, especially on their female fans. Drummer, bassist and guitarist loved to tease him about the fact that he could have any girl he wanted if he just sang a little song – not knowing that he sometimes did exactly that. As time had passed by, Blaise had found himself getting more and more desperate for someone to hold him close, giving him the feeling to be a human being instead of a musical instrument.

-FLASHBACK-

It was a warm and rainy day in May and the grass of the Central Park was completely soaked. Nevertheless, their concert as support band of some American Idol idiot was one of the best they had ever done. During the main act, Blaise and Simon, their drummer, allowed themselves a bottle of ice cold beer and sat down next to the stage to enjoy a well-earned cigarette. They definitely gave an interesting impression: One of them raven-black, the other one blonde, but both slim with long hair and pale skin, dressed completely in black. Soon enough, some girls got aware of them and started flirting unscrupulously despite the actual singer still doing his show on the stage. First Blaise tried to ignore them, but after some unsuccessful attempts to keep the girls away he thought _ma, chissenefrega! _(being "who cares" in English) and started to play along. Two girls had lunged at Simon who patiently answered all their curious questions. The third – a cutie with pony tail, a striped top and a black mini skirt – first simply sat next to Blaise looked at him. Her naive, curious gaze still said more than any monologue of the world could have and when she reached out to carefully caress his face, he didn't pull back. It felt so good to sense a soft touch, warm skin on his own. It was bound to happen the way it did – they kissed and even though it felt like nothing compared to Draco's kiss, Blaise took her with him that night. Only the morning after – he had not yet recognized what had happened this night - she calmly told him that he had been her first lover. This information almost made him drop the tray with coffee and cups he was carrying. Draped in his woollen sheets – he slept Italian style – and looking at her hands she explained to him that she had fallen for him the moment he had started singing "Join me in death" because this had reminded her of the boyfriend she had lost in a motorbike accident without the possibility to give him her most precious gift.

Despite the uneasiness this amount of responsibility gave to him Blaise al well felt a rush of tender emotions running through his veins – this girl didn't know him at all, but she trusted him nevertheless. "I'm sorry", he began, "but I can't give you any security. I can't stay with you for reasons I can't tell you. They're not only mine but also someone else's secret I can't reveal." A short nod and the soft touch of a finger on his lips interrupted these less than deficient explanations: "That's fine, don't worry. I've never expected a relationship between the two of us. I would just be happy if you didn't forget me completely..." This was the last thing she said before leaving the room. In the moment she closed the door, Blaise felt like collapsing exactly where he was. The pain, the feeling of unbearable loneliness – everything he had tried to run away from had come back and rushed through his body

which had felt so light and good only seconds before. The physical part of this night had been pure joy, easy and thoughtless. Nevertheless, the icy fist of sadness closing around his heart now made all warmth and tenderness of the night lose their importance.

Blaise became unsupportable – he hardly talked to anyone, doing his job as singer with less energy he had ever given to it before. Less than a week later, a helping hand arrived, a thick letter in which Rebecca explained carefully to him her way of acting, the joy that enlightened her days when the she thought about this very night. The hand-written words didn't heal his wounds, but they seemed to apply some kind of calming balm on them. Blaise felt so grateful that he took one of the precious quills he usually used for copying completed lyrics into his songbooks and wrote an even thicker letter in response. He tried to explain as much as he could, but it was hard not to reveal Malfoy's secret, something he didn't feel neither allowed to nor capable of. As time went by, their frequently exchanged letters became both lighter and confidential – Blaise was absolutely sure that despite Rebecca and maybe his mother nobody knew that he was afraid of spiders and loved to drink hot chocolate in bed.

His life had become brighter thanks to her and he loved her like a sister. To him, it could go ahead like this. But it didn't. Things changed. Rebecca found a new boyfriend and slowly, her letters became shorter and less frequent until they finally didn't arrive anymore.

---END OF FLASHBACK---

He had tried to find other girls like her, others to warm not only his body but his soul as well. Sometimes he found them, but usually, his nocturnal adventures were exactly that: sexual encounters of two strangers. As time went by, he arranged himself with his situation. _This has always been your way of doing it. So let's go!_, he called himself to order and stepped into the dark concert hall and the crowd.

__________________________________________________________________________________

_DISCLAIMER: Blaise is not mine (unfortunately), Simon – there were times I wished the original was - neither (Subway to Sally's gorgeous drummer gave him his name). Rebecca's character is based on a girl I saw on a concert. Special persons will remember, eh, Adeno? _

_This was it again. I admit that I haven't put much soul into the precedent chapter and I tried to do behave better this time. Things are slowly coming to an end... Let's see where they lead us. I hope you liked it and YES, I know, that the band's name is definitely stupid. This was the plan :D As usual – please read and review. _

_Baci e abbracci  
_


	16. A Touch of Home

A Touch of Home

DISCLAIMER: Blaise (the only HP character occurring in this chapter) is not mine. I do not earn any money with my fanfictions – even though it would be nice… =)

PREFACE

Remember – we unfortunately didn't have the chance to listen to Blaise's concert – but now, it's after show party time. Nevrtheless... well, you'll see ^^ I hope you'll enjoy it!

*So here we go...*

When Blaise entered the concert hall in a cloud of ice blue fog, the crowd jeered. The mostly younger audience seemed ecstatic, maybe even drunk. They usually needed heating up during the cold months and as November had already begun, the consumption of alcohol seemed almost inevitable. Blaise sniffed and made a face. He hated it, but he couldn't do anything against the typical smell of weed that always gave him evil headaches. _Great_, he thought, for some irrational reason already irritated. He didn't feel like doing small talk, answering the same annoying questions for the hundredth time. Nevertheless, he didn't have a chance. Twenty pairs of hands reached out towards him, armed with black marker pens and alternatively postcards, tickets or simple sheets of paper. Blaise grabbed one pen and scribbled his name on all the surfaces requested, murmuring "You're welcome" whenever he heard someone saying "Thank you". His mind was already far, far away – again, he felt like wandering through the soft valleys and hills of the Chianti area. How much he wished to simply sit down in peace and have some glasses of delicious Sangiovese in one of the innumerable vineries there while watching the sunset.

"Ehi, Bello Addormentato!" – A female voice apparently talked to him, called him in his mother tongue. ("Hey, Sleeping Beauty") Blaise pulled himself together and looked up. There, right in front of him, stood his cousin Alice from Volterra, with the typical huge smile on her face. _What the hell…?_", he asked himself, but then, the happiness simply overwhelmed him. Kiss on the left cheek, kiss on the right cheek, how are your parents, how's life going at home – quickly, they left the superficial questions behind and curiously looked at each other. Alice, to whom he had always connected in a special way even though they hadn't met that often, needed only one glance to comment: "You look dead tired" Blaise felt a bit overwhelmed by this calm statement and slowly shook his head. "You have no idea", he murmured and moved over to the bar in order to get something to drink. Usually he didn't allow himself any alcohol when he was in public, but he felt like making an exception. In this moment he desperately needed a pint of beer, even though the tasteless yellow liquid they sold here could hardly be called "beer". Alice, for some reason aware of this plan, almost violently gripped his arm to stop him: "Don't you dare to get yourself any kind of the disgusting drinks they sell here! Dear cousin, you don't **really** expect me to visit you without something really worth drinking, do you? So get done here and we will enjoy something good!"

A wide grin spread over Blaise's face and his eyes sparkled – he felt as if his daydream of _home _had become reality. In quick Italian words – in order not to be understood by others – he explained to his cousin that he had to get rid of his annoying fans (at least, this is a rather modest translation of what he really said ^^) first, which would take him about half an hour. Alice simply grinned and nodded: "Take your time, dear. I'll have a seat over there" she made a gesture towards the stage"and wait for you." Woosh, off she was. Blaise was still grinning at the thought of his chaotic cousin when the next fans asked for an autograph – dedication included, of course. The smile now was all natural and calm and he even allowed people to take pictures of him as a souvenir. While he signed postcards, tickets and a few shoulders, he kept on dreaming of Tuscany…

Precisely 25 minutes later, he was done. He hadn't taken a lot of time to talk to the people he already knew this time – he was too anxious to hear the newest gossip and latest news of the country he secretly still called "home". He found his cousin in her usual position: her cell phone close to the right ear while the left hand was playing with a strand of her thick black hair. She was obviously involved in something that could either be an argument or a fight – nothing special. With her not very Italian honesty, Alice always expressed exactly what she thought or felt which often ended up in misunderstandings or fights. When she got aware of Blaise approaching, she quickly cut down her dialogue partner and smiled broadly at her cousin. "Is Alessandro still making difficulties?" Blaise asked casually and offered her his arm. He didn't even know the guy's name, but Alessandro usually was a good choice in Tuscany – almost all boys and men were called Alessandro, Giovanni or Carlo. "Nonono", she answered, as usual gesturing widely, "just my mother who asked for the tenth time whether I was okay… When it comes to finance, I'm an adult for her – but when I'm away…" She seemed really annoyed, but her shining eyes contradicted her words. Blaise knew his aunt very well and she was one of the coolest, less mum-like mums he had ever met. Thus, he just laughed quietly and advised Alice simply to calm down and not to care about this kind of behaviour too much.

On their way to his apartment, they talked and chattered without a break, neither of them aware of the cold and the rain which is so typical for November. As the darkness outside was almost unbearable, Blaise immediately lit some candles as soon as he had entered the apartment. Smiling softly, he watched his cousin exploring the rooms. Her eyes wide and sparkling, her mouth open in amazement – she looked like a child on Christmas day. "This is sick… This is simply crazy" she murmured over and over again, obviously not referring to the most precious things around – his instruments. Even though he was neither sad nor angry, Blaise took his favourite acoustic guitar and, after tuning it, began to play the few "home" songs he still remembered. In exactly the moment he was done playing one of his old favs Stella Gemella, Alice entered his living room with two glasses of dark red wine in her hands. "You organised your kitchen exactly the way your mother did, do you know that? That's why I found the corkscrew and the glasses", she answered his unspoken question, "I hope you're okay with a Chianti Riserva by Casale?"

Oh hell, yes, he was. The Azienda Agricola Casale was one of the nicest vineries around and its owner, Giuseppe Giglioli was one of the friendliest persons he had ever met. He took his glass and simply enjoyed the dry, intense bouquet of the wine before sitting down and tasting the first sip. "This is so great", he sighed, his eyes closed. This was exactly what he had needed – in this very moment he got aware of how incredibly homesick he had been the last months. "You know what? I think I'm coming home."

*END OF THIS CHAPTER*

AN: Please excuse the inexcusable delay of this chapter. I just started university and I was completely focused on Biological and Social Psychology. Now that I've found sort of a rhythm, I hope to be able to write more frequently again. I know that this is a rather short chap – but I will try to keep on, okay? Any demands, questions or points of criticism – there's the "review"-button ^^

The name thing might sound like a prejudice, but it definitely has its roots in reality! There are so many males with these names, you really get confused!!!  
Alice's character is based on my best friend down there in Tuscany. I wouldn't have survived November 2008 till August 2009 without her.  
Casale – great wine, great people. No, I'm not doing any commercial, I'm just telling you what I think ^^


	17. Merry Christmas

Have yourself a merry little Christmas…

Going home – for Heaven's sake, he should have! Then he would now be sitting in his mother's kitchen, drinking hot chocolate Italian style and admire the amazing Christmas decoration (even though he didn't **always **like it). Cousins of all ages and various aunts and uncles would sit or run around in their vacation house in the hills of the Chianti area, talking, screaming, laughing. In short – everything would feel, smell and sound like home.

It was the 20th of December now, Christmas decoration and people happily in love everywhere and Blaise felt more homesick than ever before. He hadn't done much this year to male himself a merry Christmas – a few candles here and there, nothing else. He didn't even feel like buying a Christmas tree this year. He didn't feel like visiting his friend Simon for Christmas Eve – he simply felt like doing nothing. Blaise had just finished teaching his last piano lesson for today and rubbed his temples. This girl was about to make him freak out one day or another. She was definitely talented – but she knew too well about it, that's why she refused to listen to his advice. Whatever, he had been the same the time he had been the student. His poor piano now needed some love – and he needed a White Chocolate Mocha. Thankfully, the next Starbucks coffee shop was right next to his door.

With the hot and sweet beverage he sat down in front of his piano and started playing in the light of at least fifteen candles. Outside his windows, rain kept on falling from the almost pitch black winter sky, giving a nice background rhythm for all the melancholic songs he played. Slowly, the music rose and embraced him, chasing away all the dark thoughts of homesickness and loneliness. Blaise played with his eyes closed – he didn't need to see the keyboard anyways – dreaming himself away through the wintry night. He usually felt like flying through the stars high above the clouds, in order to find a place where he would find sunshine and homely warmth.

When he was done playing, his Mocha was cold already. He poured it into a porcelain cup and put it into the microwave – he hated cold (or even tepid) coffee. While the microwave prepared was working, he carefully closed his piano and turned on one of his secret favorite CDs. Ligabue sang about love and the midday sun, bringing some Italy into the dark New York apartment. Nevertheless, Blaise didn't allow his thoughts to drift away. He turned on the standard lamp (Stehlampe) next to the couch he was sitting on and gripped a book – Bartimaeus. Great idea, he definitely needed something to laugh about now.

Time went, the rain kept falling down and the candles burned down. Ligabue had already stopped singing long ago when Blaise finally put down his book. He needed some different kind of distraction. It took him only a second to take up the phone and dial Rebecca's number. Even though they didn't see each other that often, he felt very strongly connected to her. When he heard the girl's breathless voice, he smiled. "Hi Becca, it's Blaise. I sort of missed you."

Again, time started flying. They talked about important and unimportant things, about love, food and friendship. While Rebecca chattered about her plans for New Year's Eve, Blaise felt like he was warmed up by her sunshiny voice. _Alice and Mum would definitely like her_, he thought, smiling. _Maybe I should take her to Italy one day… _In the middle of these thoughts, though, he was interrupted by the door bell. "Waye, finally. You know, I've been waiting for these music sheets for ages", he commented and pressed the door opener. But who entered his door with soaking hair and pure exhaustion written in his face definitely was **not** the postman.

"Sorry, Becca, I'll call you back later, okay?" was everything he could say, surprised as he was. He carefully laid down the phone on the closest flat surface (a chair, by the way) and then looked at his unexpected visitor. He was paler than ever, with dark shadows und his smoky grey eyes. His slim shape was hidden under a long beige coat that seemed two sizes too big for him. Nevertheless and despite the fat black moonboots he wore, Draco Malfoy looked as proud and stunning as always.

Come in, Dray. It must be freaking cold outside. Can I offer you something hot to drink?" Blaise asked, trying to bring some normality into this unusual encounter. They hadn't seen each other for years now and, to be honest, Blaise had hoped that this strange fascination, this irresistible attraction would have ceased. He obviously had been wrong. Again, there was this urge to touch Draco's face, to kiss his lips – and he offered him **something to drink! **Dray's voice was almost inaudible when he answered "Yes, a cup of coffee would be great. With milk and sugar, if possible." "Sure", Blaise smiled and hurried into the kitchen.

_Breathe! It's just an old school companion visiting you._ While the coffee machine prepared Draco's coffee, Blaise tried to call himself back to order. He succeeded, so when he entered the living room with two cups of cappuccino in his hands, they were not shaking anymore. Draco, who had put off his coat and now showed a pair of black jeans and a dark grey polo-neck sweater, was examining his CD collection. Apparently satisfied, he took out one of the discs and put it into the stereo. Soft violins were to be heard – Rondo Veneziano. When Draco got aware of Blaise standing in the center of the room, he smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I desperately need to calm down a bit. Thank you for the coffee. May I sit down, to get back to officially asking?" Blaise was struck by this angelic smile and simply nodded. He sat down as well, afraid that his knees would give in. "So", he felt incredibly stupid to ask a question like this, "What have you been up to in the last years?"

Draco sighed. "I'm an official member of the Ministry of Magic, department of press and public relations. It's an interesting job, but I'm always under the eyes of my father's friends – in the rare case that he's not around." He was still wearing his gloves, so that the dark mark (in case it existed) was invisible. "Half a year ago I officially became a Death Eater - yes, I know that you've been wondering whether I am or not. Fortunately, they leave me alone most of the time. Sometimes, I'm even thankful that my father is so close to the Dark Lord. I'm his only son, so nobody dares to doubt my loyalty." His face was hard and tense now, his eyes as cold as ice. He took a sip from his cappuccino, then tried to lean back and relax.

"You know", he told his coffee cup; "it's amazing how much you can find out about anyone on this planet if you have the right connections. I've spent the last six months looking for you in secret, even though I didn't know where to start. But as an assistant of PR work, I can write e-mails to nearly every important organization you can possibly imagine. Thanks to Google and Facebook, I finally found your trace. A friend of mine who works at the department of finance fortunately could find out which apartments in New York had been rented or sold to someone called Zabini. Did you know that, only two streets away from you, there's an Italian restaurant called Zabini's? However – after a lot of work, I finally found you. I invented a job here in America and booked a flight. Up to now, I'm sure that they've found out about my lie. And I'm definitely sure that I'm in trouble, to express it in a friendly way." Draco sighed and gave Blaise a thoughtful look, apparently trying hard to stay calm.

"But, Dray, why did you come here then?"

"Good question." Draco paused. Did he really **blush** a tiny little bit?

"My father is going to disown me; I'm not going to be any father's son anymore. Without much doubt, the death eaters will search me until they find me. Nevertheless, I think I did the right thing. I… when you left I noticed that I need you. Even thought a Malfoy has a lot of fans, you were one of the fewest friends I had at Hogwarts. You looked me straight in the eye instead of admiring me from below. Maybe you didn't understand everything I did – but you tried more than anyone else. I never told you, but I'm very thankful for your friendship during all the years. Your loyalty. Your… **Dang it!** I never thought it would be that difficult to talk about feelings. I need you, Blaise. You're the only one who, in some way, has ever really touched my heart. I've never felt so close to someone. When you left, I missed every single part of you. I missed your laughter, your smile, and our conversations about nearly everything. I even missed your books and picks lying around everywhere."

He slowly got up and kneeled down next to the dark armchair Blaise was sitting on. "But the most important thing is that I never had the chance or the courage to really apologize for what I did to you. I was confused, longing for warmth. And then, typically me, I denied everything I'd felt and called you just a piece of evidence. But believe me, I never felt that way. I hated myself for doing this to you. And if you don't want to speak to me anymore, I can totally understand that. Nevertheless, I'm down on my knees, asking you to forgive me. Will you, Blaise?"

He almost looked like crying. Blaise, even though the pain and the loneliness rose again in his heart couldn't help but embracing Draco's thin body. Softly, he stroke the other boy's back until the sobs and tears ceased. Then he tried to regain some distance. "Draco. You're really making it hard for me. I trusted you because despite all your pride and arrogant behavior, you've always been honest with me. I tried to understand what it means to be the descendant of the Malfoy family and I can't claim to have succeeded completely. I tried to give you security, trust – a shoulder to cry on when you felt like doing so. You never cried. I still was there, waiting for the moment in which you really, really needed me. It never occurred. I can't tell you what I was looking for. Maybe I wanted to be special, the only person Draco Malfoy's cold soul needed."

Blaise felt the other boy shudder and he was perfectly aware of the pleading grey eyes that were focused on him. But he didn't care. He had to get rid of all the pain Draco had caused him before he could allow _anything_ more. "For a long time though, I didn't recognize the truth. It was not _you _needing _me_ – it was exactly the other way around. I've never met someone I needed as much as I needed you. As much as I might need you again if you stay only for a day or two. I gave you everything I had; you took it all and destroyed me. Dang it, Dray, you **hurt **me! It still hurts when I think about it. How can you expect me to let you into my life again? How can you expect me to forgive you? I loved you once – and everything I received in return was pain and loneliness. I don't think I can support that once more."

Now, there was definitely a tear shimmering in Draco's eye. He was trying to find the appropriate words – and succeeded. "Blaise. Please. I'm asking, no, I'm begging you to forgive me. To trust me once more. I left everything I had in order to be with you in some way. I'm not Draco Malfoy anymore. My name is Peter Andrews now and I was born in Kamloops, British Columbia, Canada. I have nothing left but you. Please, Blaise. Give me the chance to make it up!"

Blaise sighed. He knew that this was a bad idea, definitely unhealthy. Based on all the experience he had he knew that Draco had difficulties staying with only one person at a time. But maybe, maybe "Peter" was different. Maybe they could work it out somehow. And isn't Christmas time the time when miracles come true if you only believe in them?

Merry Christmas and a happy new year 2010 everybody! Almost in time for X-Mas, this neverending story has found its end. It was some hard work and I could have gone on and on, but I had to stop. I would be extremely happy if I got some reviews: criticism or ideas for the next story.

Disclaimer: As usual, nothing is mine and I don't earn any money with this.

A final thanks goes to my dear friend **Pia **who inspired Demon Love (in collaboration with ASP). Love you!


	18. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

It was about dawn time when Blaise was woken up by Draco's painful scream. "No, please, no! Don't do that to me! No!!!" He only wished he could pull up his blankets, turn around and fall asleep again. But of course, he didn't. Even thought it was not later than 3 o'clock in the morning, he started to softly caress the other boy's shoulder. "Dray, wake up! Dray, listen to me! Can you hear me?" A tiny, shaking nod. "Dray, it's okay. You're safe with me. They're not going to find you as long as you're here with me."

He couldn't be sure about that, but he tried to believe in his own words. "Shhhh… calm down. I'm here. Love, I'm here. I'm with you. You're safe, no one will harm you. Everything is fine." He kept on repeating these sentences as long as his tongue wouldn't give up. Draco's skin was covered with cold sweat. Blaise hugged the thin body and caressed arms and legs until they got warm again. He was still humming lullabies, love songs and all kinds of soft melodies he could imagine when Draco slowly calmed down and ended up sobbing against Blaise's chest.

About once a week, Draco dreamed about his father or other Death Eaters finding him. Usually, it took him more than an hour to fall asleep again, shaking with fear. Whenever this happened, Blaise wondered whether the other boy's decision to be with him had really been the right decision. He loved Draco more than ever, more than anyone could possibly imagine – and whenever his partner suffered like this, he felt incredibly helpless and guilty. It was because of him that Draco suffered. He didn't want his blond angel to be afraid, he didn't want to keep him away from his family for the rest of their lives. "Oh, Dray, what have I done to you?" he asked into the silence.

"You've given me more than I would ever have wished and asked for." Draco whispered and then kissed him softly. "Thank you"

**THE END**

I wish you all the best for the next year - read you soon!

Love,  
Cormaros

* * *

PS: I **know **that the last part is freakingly over-romantic. But I felt like I needed this painful story to end like this! This part is dedicated to the one I love most of all – the one who taught me what Draco's last sentence really means.

Snuck, you're everything to me.


End file.
